Stay the Course
by Bailey Dourdan
Summary: Caroline tries to rationlize her brother Thomas's death with revenge, but when she finds common ground with her enemy, in amongst the throes of war, will she be able to keep the promise she made to her brother and herself? Better Description Inside Tav/oc
1. The Flower and the Bee

**Well hello, I would like to just say that before you read, thank you for choosing my story among the list of other ones. This being the first chapter I'm just going to stay a couple things, first being I like to add playlists, or at least a song (so as I don't complicate your reading process too much) to each chapter. Second, (still pertaining to the whole playlist thing) if you feel that there is a song that is better suiting to a chapter feel free to vocalize this to me and I would gladly put an extra section in each introduction to the chapters for a readers playlist/song choice. Thirdly, I love constructive criticism, so if you feel that there is something that could be improved upon in the future I will take all comments to heart and fix them (within reason). Fourth, I'm pretty sure, actually almost positive a similar sub plot where there is an extra child in the Martin family has already been done before, but keep in mind this story is more about revenge than it is romance so there may be a couple of surprises at the end of this story that may, (or may not) surprise you. Also though the relationship between the heroine and the antagonist weighs heavily on the outcome of the story, the family and friends affects on the story have large impacts too. Um, I think that's all I need to say really, oh wait and pardon the title I know it's kind of cheesy (considering), it's just I am awful at naming things. (I can hardly imagine what It'll be like if I ever have a child) **

**Summary (Extended Version): Once blissfully unaware of the true impacts of war, Caroline Martin tries to rationalize her older brother Thomas's undeserved death with revenge. Then when the chance to eliminate her enemy dissipates in one brief moment, she finds herself being both the pursuer and the pursued. Now engaged in a game of cat and mouse she finds an unlawful relationship with the very person she sought out to kill after being brought into a British Fort as the suspect in the killing of seven British officers. She gets quickly dismissed, for being a woman and incapable of such malice acts. After this, by her own will, she makes herself more immersed in the war than she thought possible and leaves her family behind in pursuit of carrying out a promise she made to her dearest friend and brother, even if that means putting herself on the front lines. Though strong willed and positive she soon finds, over time, with the body count rising and the insufferable distance between herself and Thomas tearing away at her, that the barriers she put around herself are tumbling down, letting escape fifteen years of bottled-up emotions. She expresses her truest confusion when pondering, "Can affection and animosity really exist in one place?" **

**Caroline is vaguely based off Deborah Sampson (a woman who _actually_ fought in the American Revolution) and Mary Robinson. But when I say vague I mean _VAGUE._**

**Song: _Joanna Newsom-Sprout and the Bean_**

**_(All rights belong to their respected authors, I just made up my character and plot.)_**

**Read on...**

South Carolina 1776

The still atmosphere of the woods suddenly shook as a bullet passed through the barrel of a gun. In one fluid motion the round penetrated the air; too rapidly for the two pairs of human eyes close by to _fully_ observe it as it pierced the exterior layer of a large oak tree. Shock waves were sent up through the trunk of the massive growth. After a moment of silence the vibrations finally dispersed at the tips of its yellowing leaves with a rustle, sending the mockingbirds perched in its branches dispelling into the sky like sand in the breeze. The awful screeches that the winged creatures used to alert one another of impending danger did only but excite the two young observers.

"That was defiantly a kill shot," one concurred, dropping the rifle, still hot, to the mossy earth in her haste. With a proud, but equally inquisitive smile she brushed her fingers across the hole in the bark. "It's warm," she exclaimed before involuntarily moving aside so her brother too could feel the heat that was radiating from the wound in the tree.

After touching the tepid surface curiosity probed him, _If it is warm on the outside, what is it like on the inside? _Without a second thought, to consider any of the possible repercussions, he stuck his finger into the cavity only to instantly pull it out with a yelp after curtly grazing the leaden ball. "Lord that is hot!" he shouted whilst violently waving his searing extremity in the air.

She stepped, back holding her stomach as her diaphragm heaved up and down while she laughed. "You twit, you weren't supposed to touch it!"

Like a suckling infant he placed his inflamed finger into his mouth. Once the initial pang of pain from the product of his disregard had soothed he was surprised to notice that his younger sister had already lost interest in his strife. At this point her delicate, infantine mind had not only blurred out her brother's presence, but any grasp of the true impacts of such actions as those she had just committed while she admired the accuracy of her shot.

"Look at that, only half an inch away. I'm better than you now Thomas," she jarred while measuring the distance from the exact target, marked as a red dot in game bird's blood, and the entry site with her petite fingers.

Thomas pursed his plump lips angrily. "That's not possible," he stated bluntly, with his finger still hanging from inside his mouth.

This remark agitated his baby sister, who knew full well she was a marksman of equal if not higher ability to her presumptuous brother. Gabriel, the eldest of all their siblings, had even said so, thus confirming her declaration. This blind assumption of Thomas' offended her so much that she even took it to the point of questioning the foundations in which he had made this assertion upon, despite knowing that he would just continue to dismiss everything she said no matter how much she badgered him. "_Pray tell_ brother, how is it not possible that I am a better shot than you?"

Thomas was at a lack of words for the moment and knew full well that she would take full advantage of his dry tongue and twist the point to produce her a victory in this argument. His mind was still as blank as fresh snow while he anxiously watched as his sister's lips moved to form words. He wouldn't let himself make this win easy for her. Briskly he pulled his finger from his mouth and clumsily spat out just as his sister began to speak, "It's because I'm a man, and an older one than you at that," he held his sister's unimpressed glower before adding, "Not to mention, Caroline, you missed the target."

Her jaw dropped exposing the two perfect rows of teeth she had hidden behind her lips. "Thomas, you are barely nine months older than me, like that even makes a difference in anything!"

Smugly, he slipped his arms into a crossed position beneath either one of his armpits, turned his nose up in the air, and spoke coolly, "It makes _all_ the difference."

The thin skin between her eyebrows buckled from an irritation _only_ known to those with siblings. "It's not like you could do any better! You didn't even _just_ miss the target. You missed the whole tree!" she retorted clenching her tiny hands into fists.

"That's beside the point-" Thomas spluttered, only to be interrupted by her.

"What's beside the point is the fact that you're still disputing this. All I was trying to say, before you started arguing me, was that this was a kill shot. Just because I missed the target by less than a thumb, doesn't change the fact that this man would be dead if it hit his head." Thomas remained unconvinced and shook his crown, chafing his sister's already blistered patience. She puckered her full, rosy lips in distaste at his idiocy sharing the expression most people have when one has just sucked on the seeds of a lemon. _Could he really be this close-minded?_ This was a self explanatory question. _Yes_. So with this fresh irritation she hissed at her brother, "Well if you feel so obliged, why don't I use your head as the target and see if you're dead once I shoot you?"

Thomas, ripe with affliction, unfolded his arms and moved to, verbally, scratch back at his naive little sister, but before he could even do so a low voice had interrupted their squabbling. "You'll both be dead if father finds out you've spent your time shooting at a tree and not bringing those birds up to Abigail."

Standing beneath a ray of light, that managed to fight its way through a small opening in the canopy of foliage above them, was Gabriel. Their brother stood no further than fifteen feet away from them, a bundle of pheasants hanging by their feet off the muzzle of his musket, which rested soundly at the nape of his neck. Thomas and Caroline shared petrified glances, for all they knew he could have been standing there that whole time. They probably would have gone on unable to notice him, assuming that he chose to remain silent, if it was not for the persistent sun and its belligerence that willed it to try to break through the tree tops.

The two children knew well enough to not ask questions and remain in the good graces of their, sometimes, capricious father. So with their lips firmly compressed into a straight line they wasted not a moment to scatter like frightened mice and collect their belongings that were littered across the earthen floor.

Once all of their vendibles were accounted for they swung their bulging packs over their backs and secured their prey to their guns. Then, in similar fashion to their elder brother, they slid their rifles across their shoulder blades and held them there with the palms of their hands. Caroline already, before even moving, felt the affects of such a burdensome load on her arms, but she pushed through it and exerted the energy to scamper up to one side of Gabriel with Thomas.

No one said a word while they walked back to their home, but that did not mean there were not other sounds playing into the environment. Caroline, though she was carrying an equally cumbersome weight to her brothers, found she was struggling more than Thomas to keep up with Gabriel for the added heft did only but shorten her already limited gait. Gravity then was taking up sides against her, forcing bone to grind against bone with each stride she took. The rough facet of marrow being grit caused the joints in her knees to begin to deafen her with their screams of agony. Caroline was strong physically and mentally, she knew she could persevere. So she seethed and repositioned herself, but this was a fruitless venture that, if anything, worsened the suffering she was enduring. She was well aware that she could easily ask for help, but, from prior disagreements, knew full well Thomas, dare say she did inquire for such assistance, would surely jump on the opportunity to chastise her, and for that reason she considered this no option of hers. She had to do this by herself...she _could_ do it by herself. Yet as soon as this new determination to go on was found she felt it just as quickly lost under a torrent of throe that rushed through all of her distended veins. _Breathe, _she told herself. Yet breath after laborious breath her hardened chest would expand and retract, becoming the vessel for some more intense pains.

During her toiling Gabriel, unaware, whistled a jaunty tune. Thomas listened intently to the inflections of the song, but could not ignore the aching of his sister mere steps behind him. His feet began to drag in the soil, slowing his paces, but his blind egotism, determined to watch her falter under her own ignorance, spoke in the back of his mind, _She's getting what she deserves, how could she put you down? She needs to realize the consequences of her words._ His blue eyes flickered over his shoulder, forcing him to behold the sad place their sibling rivalry had too often gotten them. His internal battle between morals and hauteur pulled at his innards, twisting and tying them for the lame point of leaving him with a hollow ache to remind him of his pressing decisions. Which was more important to him?

Suddenly this dilemma was answered by a voice, not that of his own, but of a figure he held a high respect for. _Stay the course and swallow your pride, for it's not a surrender, it's a truce,_his mother had often spoken this phrase to the children when confronted with an ethical quandary. Thomas sighed and inhaled deeply before he brought his footing to a near impasse.

Caroline, being as advertent as she was, instantly noticed her brother's allaying strides. With all her might she tried not to give this gesture any heed, but she found this to be quite a difficult feat. _He is just coming back to taunt me, _she concluded, drawing her eyes away from him. _Two can play at this game, _she thought, raising the perch holding the dangling dead birds higher up on her shoulders, despite the pain tearing at her ligaments.

Thomas looked at Caroline and suppressed a smile that was teasing the corners of his lips. She was always so driven to show those around her, her capabilities, often doing so without the aid of another. Frequently he found himself pondering, _what is it exactly she is trying to prove to people? _Everyone already knew she was intelligent, artistically inclined, articulate, and perceptive, what else was there that she fought for? Thomas could not even begin to fathom what cryptograms could be deciphered with the knowledge held by the person with the ability to understand the inner workings of his sister. In the hands of someone with mal intent she could easily prove to be a very useful weapon, but he knew that there was no such person inane enough to attempt such an expedition into the depths of her psyche that could ever be able to put her thoughts to any better use. Thomas, with personal experiences with such a dangerously foolish curiosity, had learned the hard way to leave the enigmatic and, sometimes, hostile waters of her mind alone. He, like many in his family, tried setting sail in this temperamental sea, only to find his boat being rapidly overtaken by the foiling and hissing waves that guarded her emotions. She was just to remain being one of the few creatures left of true perplexing mystification in the world. And though maddening at the time Thomas had long since accepted her impenetrable shell and was satiated, like many, interacting with her usually calm and contented outward person. This was all he needed from her.

"Would you like some help?" he inquired reaching for her rifle.

Upon hearing this Gabriel watched, for a curtailed moment, with a small grin as Thomas tried to make amends with his sister. He understood how hard it was for him to express sympathy over his overwhelming pride. But he had faith that his younger brother would find a way to put back the complicated pieces of the puzzle that was their relationship for they were as dependent on each other as a flower and a bee, the two could not be separated from the other for any extended period of time without both eventually becoming fey. It was just the way of nature.

Caroline herself even knew that this petty fight would blow through their friendship as abruptly as an ocean wind, but for fighting's sake she held on to her accusation. Yet before she could even produce a witty response Caroline found the weight on her shoulders being lifted. Sharply she snapped her head to view her brother's actions. Now dangling upon his own gun there were several extra birds.

"I can carry them myself," she snapped, boldly reaching for her quarry.

In retaliation Thomas twisted his torso and slapped her hand out of the way with a dead pheasant. "I'll do it," he insisted, "give your arms a break." The whole time he spoke he kept his eyes looking firmly ahead to avoid whatever glare or glance his sister might have been giving him at the time.

But there was no such look of malice on her face now, but instead a crooked smile that was extending up her right cheek. She knew she could always count on Thomas to try to fix his blunders one way or another. Then, after expelling a delighted sigh, she let her flaccid arms drop to her sides. "Thank you," she whispered under her breath, elation making her voice twinkle like a bell.

Thomas hesitated; unable to assemble the words to say back, for words like those she had just uttered were hard to find being spoken with such a raw honesty. His thought his response had to be meaningful, and poignant, and... "Your welcome."

Caroline beamed. This was all she needed from him.

Gabriel, mere steps ahead, smirked at the happy resolution of their spat, but could not help but feel a tinge of jealousy when looking back at his siblings, already having forgotten their altercation, who were now entranced with one of their many games. Both of them existed unaware of the world around them that spun all too fast for those conscious to its burdens. Gabe turned back around and absentmindedly brushed his thumb across the rivets of his reed bracelet, bringing back many memories of his best friend, Peter Cuppin, and himself many years ago when they too were living as oblivious as his kin were. The nostalgia embedded in that little braid of thick grass made him yearn for the sweet serenity of the world Thomas and Caroline surrounded themselves with, a place he left behind as he aged and now, as a man, wished he could be once more, but he knew, at this point in time, that was no longer possible.

Gabriel was correct when he thought their world was unaffected by the woes of reality, but serenity wouldn't be the word those two would think best to describe it. They probably had an affinity to the terms zany, exuberant, effervescent, mystical, and the affectionate use of the word unimaginable. Each tree they now passed had names and stories to follow, if one was not a veteran general in the, unavailing, war against autumn, they were a wise philosopher hiding the secrets of the laws of nature and the words of the animals. In their eyes the small ravines to either side of the path were not just a natural figure in the landscape, but the footprints of a giant young woman who lives in the swamps of South Carolina. Her size, being her only flaw, impaired her from ever being able to find a suitor willing to marry a woman of her stature. So deep in the heart of the bog she cries and her massive tears become the water in the wetlands.

"She should stop crying, she doesn't need a suitor, she's still young!" Caroline protested picturing the beautiful, giant woman with flowing tawny hair and tormented blue eyes doubled over beneath a willow tree, that was but a measly three feet taller than her, sobbing.

Thomas shook his head, "No she's in her twenties Caroline, most ladies get engaged at fifteen. You have less than three years yourself, if you don't want to end up like her."

Caroline sucked in her lower lip and went as silent as a rock. Her brothers, though, were unphased by Thomas's statement and carelessly stepped out from beneath the over hang of the trees that held them in the shadows and absorbed the sun's warm beams as they found themselves back on their property. Across their field, golden with wheat, corn, and tobacco, the mail carrier could be seen riding down from their home where their siblings were playing.

"The mail!" Thomas stated excitedly, and began running up between the yellow stalks of their crops that towered over him. Gabriel looked back at Caroline and gave her a fleeting smile before he quickly bound after their brother, picking up his tri-corn hat that had dropped in his flurry.

Caroline, who still stood frozen at the mouth of the forest, usually shared the same enthusiasm for the news as her family. And to those who knew them well, would probably find it to be a curious sight seeing only two of them running in to be the first to obtain the mail. Yet Caroline alone knew what the thing was that was yielding her from rushing across their land to their front porch. It was the words her brother had spoken. Each time she thought over them she found it becoming harder and harder to chew like a piece of maple toffee. Though confusing his sister was not his intention when he made the comment, it could not help but rise realizations she had never acknowledged before in her short life. She would begin being courted in just over two years by a man...who had intentions to marry her! With a mind as advanced as hers this would seem to others to be an easy thought to process, but something that those others may not have accounted for was the fact that she was still a child. A child very much still living immersed in a child's world, where such things as marriage had no weight on her mind.

With a deep breath and a peaceful moment of reverie she was able to bury the unwanted revelation beneath other callow things that clouded her mind, yet unbeknownst to her at the time this was the first cut reality was making in her juvenile euphoria. And this gash was not going to heal.

**Thank you kindly for reading. The next chapter will be out in a week-or-so's time, but that could be extended considering school is, unfortunatly, starting up again. **


	2. What Goes Up, Must Come Down

**Well hello again, before I start I would like to thank the reader Madness is Me for your review, it made my day a little brighter. **

**_Song:Brett Dennen-The One Who Loves You the Most _**

**(If anyone does listen to the songs, but especially the song choice for this chapter, take its meaning more from a family member to family members perspective or else it may just put images in your head you don't necessarily want there.)**

**All rights belong to their respected authors, only my added characters and added plot belong to me.) **

Chapter Two: What Goes Up Must Come Down

The blood that ran in the shallow veins beneath their skin began to welt up, reddening the tips of their fingers while they plumed the pheasants. Caroline rested her elbows on the wooden island in their kitchen, whilst she lazily plucked shaft by shaft from the bird. Meanwhile Thomas, with an incomprehensible fervor, tore out handfuls of feathers at a time before throwing them into the bucket which sat in between their stools. This was the tedious chore given to them, it was easy, in concept, but in no way was this a job for those with frail minds in consequence of its repetitive and numbing nature.

Caroline, though faithful to the task at hand, was desperately seeking for something to relieve her from the boredom that pounded at the front of her brain. Yet, what was there in the kitchen, with such capabilities, that did not involve meandering too far from her duties? Suddenly at the tip of her nose the soft caresses of an alien material roused her from her musing. Intuition, a well trusted friend, coaxed her eyes upwards to behold the spectacle.

Colourful plumes, varying in shades of brown, white, and orange, gently floated in the air around her, with the ultimate goal of reaching the floor after a long, suspended descent. She did not bother to question why or who stirred them up, but instead smiled and wistfully imagined if this was similar to the snow fall she had encountered once many years ago, having only the faintest memory of it now from the time when she was, just barely, no longer considered a babe. It was as if someone had answered her despairing thoughts that she had been able to find such an incredible amusement in this blizzard of multicolour tufts, but an experience as spectacular as this one had to be shared with another for it to last.

"Thomas," she said delicately. From this call to him she got no response, so she tried again with a firmer tone, "Thomas." Still he made no reaction to the sharp articulation of his name. How could she still be ignored she wondered.

In one rash turn of her head she adverted her gaze to her brother and began, "Thomas David Mart-" but upon seeing her brother's face she had to stifle a snort. He looked up at her with large befuddled blue eyes, unaware of the little bits of feather that were caught on his lips and eyelashes. She speculated this state of disarray he was in was an outgrowth of his careless pluming.

A small grin bewitched his face upon seeing his sister's reaction to observing him. "What is it?" he lightly asked, touching at his cheek in vain search for a foreign residue or something else of that sort.

She gnawed on her bottom lip to suppress the smirk that would give away the joke. "Um, it's just you've got a little something...there," Caroline said while she, in a circling motion, indirectly pointed to every feature on her face.

Thomas quickly slid his hand across his lips and upon taking it off he was entertained to realize it was nothing more than feathers sticking to his visage.

Then both sibling looked at one another and acknowledged the playful glint in both of their eyes. "Well, I didn't want to tell you, but," Thomas paused to scoop up a handful of stray feathers from the counter, "You have feathers all in your hair." While he spoke he dropped clumps of the bird's coat into his sister's golden hair.

The battle had begun. The sparkling laughter of the two children filled up the small space as they threw fistfuls of pheasant puffs at one other. After a couple moments they quickly realized they could do much more than just throwing the material and began taking supply from the bucket and mashing it into each others faces. Before long the room had become all but visually impenetrable, but this had no affects on their fun. Yet even then, the young brother and sister duo were aware there were many things that could.

"But father I am a man now!" the sound of Gabriel yelling in the other room stiffened both Caroline and Thomas' spines.

"Gabriel there is no war yet, there is no need for this conversation right now!" their father shouted back in riposte.

Now, with the cloud of feathers settling, Caroline nudged her brother's knee. "What are they talking about?" She had heard nothing of war happening before, much less of war drawing Gabriel into battle, what could it be they were speaking of she pondered.

Thomas leaned in to his sister and whispered, like telling a well guarded secret, "A revolution is on the tongues of citizens lately, they speak of detaching themselves from the crown, even if it involves going to arms against Britain."

Caroline jerked back with a revolted expression pulling at her, otherwise, gentle face. "And Gabriel wants to fight?" she beseeched with a rising trepidation in her voice.

In one swift movement Thomas cupped her mouth in his hand to muffle out any more of her boisterous demands. She writhed in her spot for a moment, but her brother's hold was far stronger than she could have anticipated. Then, after a minute of superfluous reprisal she gave up and patiently waited for Thomas to retract his hand.

He gave his sister an admonishing look as he slowly recoiled his arm. "Gabriel wants to join the army?" she asked again in, an acceptably volumed, disbelief.

"I suppose so. All steadfast patriot men do really," he affirmed, easing back in his seat.

Caroline took a moment to think over the new information given to her, only to find, yet another, culmination buried deep in her brother's words. Flashes of memories of Thomas, in a futile attempt to be included in one of their father's parlour conversations, expressing his distaste for the British and their unheeded taxation, despite it not directly affecting him. Though his patriotic fire was doused, on spot, by the waters of their father's assertion, in which he claimed Thomas, at his age, did not need to concern himself and others with such topics, Caroline knew all to well that the embers from that great blaze still existed and, until that moment, remained dormant inside of him, waiting for the proper ignition to help it burn as great as it did. Gabriel, being a role model that Thomas feverishly looked to for absolution, was enough kindling to restart the audacious thoughts of war in him. Caroline's expression hardened in disappointment, there it was again, that dangerously eminent flame in his eyes. Oh how she wished she bared the product to put it out.

With a quivering lip she spoke, "Y-you don't want to fight, do you?" Thomas shrugged. His nonchalant manner infuriated her, for this was not the time for him to act as though he was indifferent to the situation. Now, it was time for him to speak his mind so she could quickly and painlessly extinguish all of his dreams of warfare.

Her voice, now blunt like that facet of a skipping stone, cut through the silence. "Thomas, I asked, do you want to join the army?"

Her brother sat up straight in his chair, still trying to maintain his _"coolly unconcerned"_ air, and angled his body towards his sister. "Well, am I not a patriotic man?"

Caroline was fed up with his condescending tone and placid facade. "No, you're just a jaded and confounded boy, who has no understanding of war!" she spat, turning in her chair with the ferocity of a hurricane and getting to her feet. She was not going to be around to listen to his garble about patriotism.

Thomas could see plainly the hurt he was causing her and the possible disagreement that could perpetuate if he let her stalk off like this. So, listening closely to what his gut told him, he clasped his hand around her slender arm and pulled her back towards him. "Come on now, Caroline, please stay," he pleaded, his voice back to its normal chirpy octave.

Caroline was almost half convinced to stay there, now that his approach to her was no longer patronizing, but she would not let herself be so easily persuaded by his sweet words, for actions had to follow. "Why should I stay, if you are so determined to leave?"

Fighting with her was like fighting with his father; _hopeless_. Their father had been there and done that, so his understanding of the way the world worked surpassed Thomas' common knowledge, yet Caroline just seemed to have this knack for-knowing. Not to mention, both father and daughter shared this god given talent of taking another's words, said in jape, and turning them around to leave their opponent wallowing in their own ignorant discourse, as Thomas was presently experiencing. It was surprising to think she had never been to a school, much less been in these hundreds of predicaments that she had so effortlessly empathized with, but instead had been taught the basics from their mother and used those facts as building blocks to a higher understanding. She could read and write better then any common man Thomas had encountered and had the ability to comprehend most mathematical equations. He imagined, that if she ever had a formal education, that she would be the top of her class.

"I never said I was leaving!" he jabbered.

Caroline furrowed all of her features and explained, "No, but you insinuated it with your statement and blind eagerness to follow after Gabriel!"

Thomas was about to take offence to what she had said, but all anger was lost, suddenly, under a wave of calm. _All she says is out of care,_ he reminded himself and steadied his breathing. "Caroline, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he promised, holding his balled up hand to his heart.

Caroline pursed her lips and corrected him, "No, your just never going anywhere. I'll make sure of it!"

He smiled up at his sister and gently tugged her by the arm back into her seat, putting them leveled eye to eye with each other once more. This small gesture of his made all emotion of acrimony evaporate from her chest. So with an unburdened mind she settled back into her stool and waited for Thomas to break the no-longer-customary silence.

"No," he affirmed shaking his head grievously, "I'll just never go anywhere without you and _I'll _make sure of it."

Caroline, no longer able to hold anger in her body, simply rolled her eyes. "Oh you expect me to be able to be in the army with you?" she queried in jest. "What are you going to do, hide me in your bag?"

Thomas shook his head, "No, you're going to stand right by my side. But to do so we'll need to add a little something to your whole appearance," his speech trailed off as he searched with his eyes around for the proper thing to make his point known to her. His hand, which assisted in the quest, stopped above one long brown feather. "Perfect," he proclaimed, holding the make-shift-moustache up to her lip. "With a little bit of facial hair no one could suspect you to be a girl."

Caroline lowered her eyebrows upon her eyes. "And the clothing?" she inquired, gesturing to the light beige dress she had on.

Thomas tapped his chin and after a moments worth of thought simply replied, "You may just wear my clothing."

A sudden absence of sound arouse between them as they looked gravely into one another's eyes, but as it is so flawlessly said, _'What goes up, must come down.'_ And with this all seriousness came tumbling downward from the effects of their relentless laughter. They then learned in that second that beguilement itself even had its drawbacks, for example; the side splitting pain as they chortled and rolled in their seats. Yet right as their dark moods were finally lifted, the ever so ardent saying, _'What goes up, must come down," _rung true again.

"Children!" exclaimed a flabbergasted Abigail as she came upon the abhorrent scene. Feathers were absolutely everywhere, on the counters, on the table, on the floor, and on the children! All their poor housekeeper could do was gawk until Benjamin, their father, came running in upon hearing her scream.

"What is happen-" Benjamin instantly held his tongue and observed the defacement of the room and the two criminals who wrought out the deed sitting wide eyed in their seats. "Thomas and Caroline..." their father's tone became gradually louder as his anger piqued.

The dim mood came crashing down upon them once more, leaving those two silly siblings wishing they could just collect their belongings and run from being reprimanded like they had earlier in the day.

**Thank you for reading this chapter. The next one will be out soon! And to those who may be wondering, William Tavington will be getting mixed into the story coming around chapter four, so hold on till then. Lastly, feedback is always appreciated.**


	3. Little Yellow Spider

**I apologize for this taking a little longer to come out than the other chapter, but it seems wi****th**** high school just beginning for me that this is going to be how long it takes, if not longer from now until the end of the school year. Let us all hope my grade nine year will not have too many impacts on the story! Anyway, thank you to those who alerted, favourite-d, or reviewed on prior chapters. I would like to address a question from Lucians****LycanNightShade****, which was how old is Caroline? She's twelve almost thirteen or so at this point, but when it gets to the main time period of the story (when Gabriel and Ben are in the militia and what not) she will be fifteen. Sorry for the confusion.**

**Song: _Little Yellow Spider-__Devendra __Banhart _(I wonder where I got the chapter title from?)**

**(All rights belong to their respected authors, all added characters and added story are made by me.)**

**Chapter Three: Little Yellow Spider**

The knock that he had been eagerly waiting for finally came at the front door. Ben, leaning against the wall adjacent to the entryway, pulled his watch out from his breast pocket. Upon interpreting what the two hands of the clock had to say he exposed the devious grin that had been hiding beneath his impassive expression for the last few hours. "Well they're done early, aren't they?" he asked to the growing quiet. The man looked up to find that his eldest son was, now, nowhere in sight. He shrugged and supposed he would just have to enjoy this pleasing moment by himself.

There were two ways he could deal with the situation facing him, he could be kind or he could be a parent. The moral scale in Ben's mind quaked from side to side, but he did not have the time to decipher where his true feeling lay. So in one short instant after making a hasty decision, he sharply turned the brass knob and tore the door open, exposing the two dirty faced children standing on his doorstep. Their exhaustion was evident both in their arduous breathing and the heavy, blackness pulling beneath their eyes. "Have you done everything I asked?" he inquired, forcing an enduring look to appear in his bright blue eyes.

They both nodded earnestly and advanced a step towards the doorway. Yet Ben, not easily convinced, cut in front of them. "Did you clean the chicken coop?"

The two siblings nodded again with a cold countenance that just barely disguised their growing irritation for his lack of faith in them. As punishment they had finished all of their father's commands, despite how ridiculous some of them were to execute at that time of night. Could he really believe they had not listened to his words faithfully?

Then, as if he was somehow made aware of their annoyance, he began shooting off all the duties he assigned to them after the little debacle in the kitchen like rounds from a gun. "Did you feed the swine? Groom the horses? Pile the hay? Collect the wood? Clean up the feathers?" he was out of breath by this time, but knew he was not yet done with his questions, it was just his mind could not recall what he had left out.

"Yes!" they both exclaimed upon their father finishing. The whites of their eyes, bloodshot from a catalyst of fatigue and frustration, were almost fully exposed as they swelled in their sockets.

Benjamin, without full consciousness to the act, slid his hand up and down his dull stubbly cheek while he searched for the missing thought in his mind. This endeavor had the same level of complication as trying to find the end to a string in a mess of yarn. "What about…" his words waned off as absent mindedness slowly crept upon him. Then in a sudden explosion of words he remembered, "Did you tend to the animals' stalls?"

The _yes_ they were about to speak, suddenly froze on their lips. Had they cleaned the stable? Thomas and Caroline shared petrified glances. Their bodies could nod endure another labor intensive job, they just could not! They were filthy, aching and still expected to wake up early that coming morning to finish their regular chores. He just could not make them do anymore!

Thomas then, outraged at their father's indignant question, took the reigns in the situation and spoke up in their defense, "Oh please father, we have done three days worth of work in one night, will you just let us in?"

Ben looked from his son to his daughter; both were hopelessly trying to remain in a standing position by resting their weight on the door frame. Was he to let them in? The fluttering hazel eyes of his daughter as she tried to remain conscious, nearly willed him to step aside for them, but he knew he had to stay true to his prior decision if he wanted to remain in authority in this household. He had to be a parent. Lowering his head to view them both, he smiled and spoke, "Of course-"

Their eyes lightened from their dim state at the sound of the words coming from their father's mouth. In a burst of recovered energy they raised their feet to step into the house, not realizing their father had more to say.

Ben, who was holding his weight onto the handle of the door, then distinctly added, "-_When,_ you clean out the stalls." With the end to that sentence he quickly pulled his weight back, releasing the door from his grip, thus slamming it shut, leaving Thomas and Caroline toiling in a puddle of their own emotions.

Was it confusion, anger, or disbelief that kept them standing there on the porch for another five minutes. Their faces were impassive and their thought processes stopped, they could not wrap their brain around what had just happened. Yet at that exact instant the sun finally fell behind the horizon, defeated by the far more vast and surrounding sea of blue, both siblings without a word, much less a thought, trudged lifelessly back towards the barn.

Their minds were too faint at this time of night to feel the effects of that cool august evening, or the bite of the last remaining mosquitoes. To them, the world was unmoving and silent.

Not even the familiar tapping of their heavy feet against the dirt, or the screech of rusted metal as Caroline raised the lever to open the barn could penetrate their ears. Yet even in their sleepy state, both brother and sister had half a mind to know the door was far too heavy for one of them. Then, in a manner as void of life as before, they pushed their weight against the planks of wood that formed the egress and stumbled their way into the barn.

They were unsurprised to see the animals themselves mute and motionless at that hour, yet upon hearing the loud thud of the door shutting behind Caroline and Thomas they all began to stir with sleepy grunts. Then, upon the moment the creatures saw the dark silhouettes of the children, the barn erupted into a cacophony of different animal calls. Everything from the pig to the cow to the chicken to the goat expressed their contentment for the presence of the two human innocents, but no one could deny that a certain white mare held a certain erratic reaction to them unlike any other. She whinnied and reeled in her stall, kicking up her back heels against the outlier wall upon realizing Thomas was among those people present.

"Oh shush Melanie, I'm here!" he cooed to his horse while patting her long spotted snout, which she desperately nuzzled into the crux of his arm.

Caroline went on, unphased by the affair between the rider and his horse, in pursuit of the broom which was the unlikely key to being permitted back into the house. Her search led her to a wall behind the main stable where all of the hay bales were stored for future use. She could not be bothered wondering why the besom was found compacted between two bales, though the strange sight could not help but rise questions that were only quickly smothered and restrained. She sighed and hoisted herself onto the wall of rectangular bundles of straw. Once placed strategically on her stomach she coiled her small hands around the rod and yanked, only to find that it was going to take much more than just a tug to get it out. Yet after laying there she could not help but acknowledge the surprising amount of comfort to be found on the condensed fodder.

Thomas, who had now retracted his attention from the horse, inadvertently looked for his sister, who he expected to be standing behind him. His stomach muscles contracted in a subtle fear with the sudden disappearance of his sibling. The shadows that cowered in the corners away from the dull light began flickering and dancing much to Thomas' dismay. "Caroline?" he yelped, suppressing the horrid thoughts of the beasts that could be hiding behind walls, waiting for him. The stillness was suddenly interrupted by a low grouse in response to his call. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and charged bravely towards the source of the noise.

Upon rounding the bend he was relieved to find his sister coiled up in a ball upon a hay bale, her features illuminated by the silver beams of the harvest moon. "Caroline come on, let's get this done quickly so we can go back to the house."

She easily could have been stubborn and stayed there, but common sense managed to will her reluctant body into a sitting position by enticing her with the memory of the feathery softness of her _actual_ sleeping quarters. But just because her back was erect did not mean she was coherent. After weightily opening her eyelids she looked out mystified at the pane of glass by her person. Soon she found herself in a staring contest with the celestial body in the sky, in all its unwavering and unfaltering glory. This, of course, was a barren challenge, because no longer than fifteen seconds into the confrontation did she find her eyes watering.

The exact instant she chose to surrender to the full moon, did the sudden glistening of a foreign twine stretching its way from one side of the window to another capture her attention away. She squinted and strained her eyes to see the filigree design of spider's lace, with no other than the little yellow spider who had spun the work sitting halted in the middle. "Hmm," she mumbled, quickly taking note that this faint noise had somehow roused the arachnid.

Thomas looked on at his sister like an oddity, he could not understand why she was examining this common house spider with so much intent. "Caroline," he began only to have her speak directly after announcing her name.

"I believe this spider is laughing at me," she declared, staring off at the tiny bug questioning, _Maybe that spider knows something that I don't know. _

Thomas shook his head in a humored incredulity. "You need to get some sleep."

Her head abruptly snapped to face him with an angry scowl and then, with a considerable amount acerbity, she snapped, "Well that was exactly what I was trying to do before you told me to get up!"

Thomas laughed and beckoned for her with his hand. "Come on, let's finish this before the pig starts talking to you."

Caroline glared on at her brother with contempt as she hopped off her ledge. "It-_was-_laughing," she hissed beneath her breath. Before leaving to continue her duties, she desirously looked back at the tiny creature that was shaking the web with its inaudible chuckling. Stiffly she turned back around, storming close on the heels of her brother thinking angrily, _Oh how I hate that little yellow spider!_

_

* * *

__Hell must have frozen over,_ Caroline thought as she recounted the fact that Thomas managed to convince her to stay downstairs, though she should be sleeping. It was while they were cleaning their faces of the dirt they accumulated from finishing their last chore did he despondently beg her to stay down for a few minutes more, so she too could read the mail. The letters and news bulletins never really concerned her, albeit she usually stayed down anyways to humour her brother with her presence, but this night in particular, after all the hours of hard labour, she more saw herself having already been pleasantly tucked away in her bed. Yet Thomas, with all his persuasion skills, succeeded in making her stay. For the time being at least…

At this point in time she regarded as her brothers, like wild beasts, bore their fingers ravenously into the white flesh of an envelope and tore out its contents. It was like watching a wolf gut a deer. She shook her head, thinking back on the lovely silent moments of before while they all sat still in their spots waiting for their father to say, "_when_." She was a witness to the moment that the man had nearly crushed the two boys hopes with the tease of leaving the correspondences unopened for another day, but Caroline could see through his flimsy semblance for he too had a hankering for the information the letters had to bestow.

With a deep, disinterested sigh she lifted her book back up to her nose.

Coriolanus, one of the greatest tragedies ever written by Shakespeare, according to Caroline, was being held to her face while she read with dreamy, glazed eyes as Volumnia beseeched to her son,

_You are too absolute;_

_Though therein you can never be too noble,_

_But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,_

_Honor and policy, like __unsevered__ friends,_

_I' th' war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me,_

_In peace what each of them by th' other lose,_

_That they combine not there._

_If it be honor in your wars to seem_

_The same you are not, - which, for your best ends,_

_You adopt your policy - how is it less or worse,_

_That it shall hold companionship in peace_

_Wi__th__ honor, as in war; since that to bo__th_

_It stands in like request?_

_It lies on you to speak_

_To th' people, not by your own instruction,_

_Nor by th' matter which your heart prompts you,_

_But with such words that are but roted in_

_Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables_

_Of no allowance to your bosom's tru__th__._

_Now, this no more dishonors you at all_

_Than to take in a town with gentle words,_

_Which else would put you to your fortune and_

_The hazard of much blood._

_I would dissemble with my nature where_

_My fortunes and my friends at stake required_

_I should do so in honor. I am in this_

_Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;_

_And you will rather show our general louts_

_How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em,_

_For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard_

_Of what that want might ruin._

_I prithee now, my son,_

_Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;_

_And thus far having stretched it, - here be with them -_

_Thy knee __bussing__ the stones, - for in such business_

_Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant_

_More learned than the ears - waving thy head,_

_Which, often thus correcting thy stout heart,_

_Now humble as the ripest mulberry_

_That will not hold the handling; or say to them_

_Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils_

_Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,_

_Were fit for thee to use as they to claim,_

_In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame_

_Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far_

_As thou hast power and person._

_Go and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather_

_Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf_

_Than flatter him in a bower._

Caroline let out a surprised grunt, "He sounds like Thomas."

Her comment was quickly overtaken by Gabriel's loud voice, "Peter Cuppin joined the Continentals," he looked up at his father who was sitting back in his chair. "He is seventeen. A year younger than I!"

Benjamin tactfully immersed himself into his reading, ignoring the growing trepidity in his son's tone. Yet with such feverous reading came the consequences of comprehending things that one would rather be blissfully ignorant to. "Well," he paused and looked up to his children, even catching Caroline's wandering eye, "the assemblies been convened, I am called to Charles Town."

"Charles Town. We are going to Charles Town!" Thomas practically squeaked.

Ben nodded with a level of apprehension. "We are. We leave in the morning."

The two boys rejoiced, forgetting the broils of past words in the excitement of what the trip had to offer them. Caroline, on the other hand, had a distant demeanor as she sat staunchly in her armchair. Ben caught sight of her emotionless expression and tried further to understand why she looked this way.

"Caroline?" Ben beckoned, leaning in to secure her empty stare. "Are you not excited to see Aunt Charlotte?"

Caroline blinked blankly for a second. "No, no," she assured him, "Just I am feeling weary. I believe I am going to retire to my bedroom now, if we are expected to wake up early tomorrow morning."

The muscles in Benjamin's neck contracted, quelling the dejected, "oh" that could have very well passed his lips. Slowly he then pulled his chest back away from her, creating that further metaphorical, if not literal, expanse between father and daughter. She just refused to indulge other on her thoughts but Thomas, which, at times, made Ben extraordinarily jealous of his own son. How could he know nothing of her, while she held his most incriminating secret from the rest of the family? "Do as you will," he said with a waving gesture.

She smiled and rose from her seat, slipping her novel into her skirt pocket. Then right as she turned to leave the parlor did Benjamin speak up once more, "Oh Caroline!" She paused her footing and pivoted her head around her shoulder to see her father sitting on the edge of his chair reaching for her attention.

"Yes?" she asked softly.

"Goodnight."

She simpered at her begetter's simple notion of kindness. "Goodnight, Father."

Once she left the room Ben settled back into his seat, only half as contented as before. He gazed down at his sons who reveled in the thought of taking a trip to the Charles Town, both of them so easily appeased by small things. _Then why was Caroline so complicated?_ he asked himself.

His query was gingerly met by the voice of his late wife echoing in his head, _Because she is exactly like you._

He had some troubles believing this. He couldn't be that bedeviling, could he? He sighed. The workings of his daughter's mind were as foreign to him as those of the animals, both unreachable because of verbal barriers, and just like that of the creatures he surrounded himself with; he supposed that was how their relationship was to stay.

**Thank you for reading everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy, I have been pretty badgered by the beginning of school, but I promise this is not going to be a sign of things to come. Tell me what you think. **


	4. Among Us

**To start this chapter off...I think I lied when I said that Tavington was coming in on chapter four, or its possibly my poor math skills, but none the less there is no William, yet. So I apoligize if I got anyones hopes up, but do not fret for he is coming sooned than you think! Thank you Music24601 for the review, they are always appreciated. Also, I had incredible difficulty finding a song for this chapter and am hesitant to even put one up (if there are people who actually listen to them) because I can not seem to find one that works. I contemplated _Hope in the Air by Laura Marling _and _The Fray by Joanna Newsom_, but despite the songs be utterly stunning they did not sit well with me (Though they may be used in future chapters). So I will leave this chapter blank and am open to any suggestions any of you may have!**

**(All rights belong to their respected authors. The added characters and plot belong to me I suppose?)**

Chapter Four: Among Us

From the carriage Caroline looked over to the harbor. The ships that were docked had men hauling barrels and equipment to and fro, on and off them. She had never seen as large of boats in her life, with hulls as wide as her house and with masts so tall thier tips seemed to be able to scrape at the very fabric of the sky.

With the sudden turn of their cart around a corner the small girl was jolted back into reality as her and her family plodded through the streets of Charles Town.

"How much longer?" Nathan moaned, helplessly resting on his brother's shoulder.

Their father, who after several hours of these questions had just about had enough, spoke back to him with a growing sharpness to his tone, "We are just about there Nathan."

Though the response was not directed to everyone, all of the children managed to sate their curiousity with the phrase. Yet such words also served as the craft for which the awkward position of being _'too close to your destination to complain, but too far to get excited'_ commissioned itself. What were they to do now?

Caroline, who was being especially plagued by this question, began searching for a form of amusement to bide her time. Her younger sisters were entertaining themselves with the stories Margaret told Susan, while her younger brothers Samuel, William, and Nathan had immersed themselves into a game of hand gestures, and Gabriel was virtually unreachable for he was riding behind the family upon a horse. That left her only one option.

Her path of vision then slowly dropped to Thomas who was resting, only partially conscious, with his head on a crate. The night, having not been half so kind to him as it was to her, left her brother with sunken eyes and a heavy fatigue.

She had stayed down with him last evening to read the mail despite her need for sleep, so she thought it only fair that he _at least_ speak with her in his moment of feebleness. She nodded agreeably with herself and in one brisk movement made her way from her seat to the spot next to him. "Thomas," she whispered as she prodded his near lifeless body.

He made some faint gesture of recognition, but this was not enough to stop Caroline from the pursuit of a verbal response. "Thomas?" Her petite fingers wound around his shoulder for which she began to gently shake him.

Unexpectedly, she felt beneath her grasp his muscles tense. "What do you want?" he groused while straightening his back with three sickening cracks.

"Oh nothing in particular, it's just-"

The words that were on the tip of her tongue suddenly leapt from her mouth to Thomas', "-you were bored?"

She folded her hands on her lap and nodded with an eager grin.

"You do know we're almost there?" he questioned with his disinterest tainting his tone.

She nodded again and began, "Oh I know, it's just-"

"-you wanted to see if I was as bored as you?"

Their brother, sister telepathic tendencies, as usual, took the element of surprise out of their statements and stories. Yet as unfortunate as such abilities, or more incapabilities, could be there were always just as many upsides.

Caroline, in true nervous fashion, began to chew on her lip as she inquired hopelessly, "Well, are you?"

Thomas looked from his sister back to where he was laying his head. Sleep and all its fineries were so appealing to him in that half-into-slumber state, but the pleading look in his sister's eyes, one that he too had on prior occasions, spoke to him louder than his own exhaustion.

With a deep sigh he said, "Sure."

His little sister beamed with delight. "Well then what should we do?"

Before Thomas could even form an answer in his mind she had already began spitting out activities by the dozen. Then by the time the list was done and Caroline was finally able to take a full breath the juncture had passed and they found themselves being jerked forward with the abrupt halt of the carriage.

Upon repositioning himself he glimpsed down at his sister, who was now wedged between two trunks, and chaffed, "Well wasn't that fun?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. Everyone else had already vacated the vehicle in a hurry and her Aunt's _"workers"_, as Caroline often delicately put it, were unloading their luggage and securing the family horses. The sound of the children screaming in pleasure abounded through the air. "We're here, we're here!" they all shouted. Even Benjamin and his three eldest children could not help but find their enthusiasm contagious.

Caroline and Thomas scrambled out of the cart and hopped off the platform to the cobble stone path beneath them. How strange it was in comparison to their country home, where the roads were nothing more than cleared dirt paths. "Let's go!" chirped Thomas, loosing all of his earlier feelings of debility in one quick burst of excitement.

Quickly the two juveniles bound up the stairs where they were met by the rest of their family, save Gabriel who was coming up close behind them. "Aunt Charlotte, Aunt Charlotte," the young Martin's exclaimed running in to embrace the slender woman. All children but one did so.

Caroline stood rigidly at the landing of the staircase, looking over at her Aunt with large mysterious eyes. Was it that she thought Charlotte gave the other children more attention, or was it that she looked too much like their mother? Ben could not even begin to fathom what reason his daughter held such a hostility for her.

"Caroline," she called, holding her arms out to the girl.

Speechless little Susan had more of a response than Caroline, who had still not made a movement. Ben looked down at her anxiously; it was rude for her not to greet her aunt. So with a gentle reassuring hand he patted her back, pushing her forward, but his daughter remained impassive.

Charlotte waited a few moments more for her niece to come running into her arms like the others had, but no such thing was to happen. Defeated, she dropped her arms to her sides. It was just how it was to be. The woman proceeded, with a sigh, to stroke Nathan and Margaret's soft hair. "They're huge. What have you been feeding them?" she asked, hiding the hurt in her voice under layers of soft, delicate inflections.

Ben seemed to do a double take, as if surprised her attention was being directed to him. Caroline saw that glossy eyed glance he always gave their Aunt and knew exactly what feeling was behind it. She scowled for she was sickened by this notion that her father held a fondness for her cognate that surpassed what usual siblings-in-law shared. Benjamin, as his daughter thought it, was just trying to replace their motherly figure and his significant other after the years of loneliness. Caroline, though, knew Charlotte was not the answer to her father's sorrow, but the mere momentary filler. For despite looking like her mother, and sounding like her mother, she was not her, nor would she ever be.

"They come from good stock, on their mother's side of course" Ben added motioning to his kin.

Charlotte blushed lightly and quickly directed her regard to the adolescents crowded around her front door. "Come inside, wait till you see what I have for you!" she gingerly poked the small nose of William, the youngest boy of them all.

"Presents!" the children squealed as they ran past their Aunt and into the house giving no heed to their elders.

"Move slowly," demanded Benjamin, but his commands fell upon deaf ears. His two eldest sons were among those trying to push in, but right as they were about to go through the door way a strong voice forced them to stop. "Keep an eye on these heathens, will you?"

The boys promptly nodded and pushed passed their father with the same ferocity of those before them. With the sudden rush of weight against his back Benjamin tumbled forward, leaning his weight against a startled Charlotte.

Caroline slowly stalked passed them giving her father a fleeting glare as if saying, _"How could he?"_ She could feel the venom burn her throat as she tried to suppress her rage. _Remember, _she told herself, _She will never be your mother._

_

* * *

__Frap, frap, frap, _the sound of a gavel hitting a oak lectern was lost under the shouts of impassioned men fueled by patriotism to their mother country or to their unborn nation. Yet one man's voice managed to cut through the banter and catch the attention of the rowdy audience. "Our first order of business!" announced the leader of the assembly.

Silence began to sweep over the crowd only to have an unknown man break it. "And our last if we vote a levy!" This remark was met by screams of praise and distaste, but side arguments could not be held long before order was called for again by the head of procession. After a few moments of reprimanding a conservative level of civility once more instated itself, permitting the doyen to continue speaking.

"First, an address from Colonel Harry Burwell of the continental army," the grey haired judge turned his head back over his shoulder to acknowledge the man resting in a seat at the front of the hall, "Colonel Burwell?"

The officer rose from his seat with a courteous nod to the adjudicator before he stepped in front of the crowd. "You all know why I am here?" The rhetorical question was met by the disjointed rumble of murmurs from the audience. Being as vigil a man as he was, he knew it would be better to declare his place among the men, both for and against him, sooner rather than later. "I'm not an orator. And I would not try to convince you of the worthiness of our cause," he paused to stare out at the masses, "I'm a soldier. And we are at war. From Philadelphia, we expect a declaration of Independence. 8 of the 13 colonies have levied money in support of a continental army. I ask that South Carolina be the ninth."

"Massachusetts and Virginia may be at war, but South Carolina is not!" called those who had spoken out of turn before, instigating the roar of contempt in the assemblage.

Harry uncomfortably adjusted the lapel of his blue jacket and spoke, "This is not a war of independence for one or two colonies," he looked out at the room that was unintentionally divided in half by the conflicting political views and continued, "But for the independence of one nation."

Suddenly a man seated in the Loyalist pews shot up and demanded, "And what nation is that?"

Colonel Burwell, who did not yet have his bearings to defend himself, had the attention deflected from his answer when a stout man with a dilapidated wig and missing leg replied triumphantly, "An American Nation!"

A tall, lanky fellow, sitting beside the original antagonist, snapped in retort, "There is no such nation and to speak of one is treason!"

The plump man was quick to bark back, leaving Harry only able to observe what his words could elicit. "We are citizens of an American Nation and our rights are being threatened by a tyrant three thousand miles away!"

Everyone waited for someone seated on the Loyalist side to rise, but instead a blank faced Benjamin Martin, whom sat amongst the rest of the patriots, rose to his feet breaking the pattern. "Would you tell me, please, Mr. Howard why I should trade one tyrant three thousand miles away for three thousand tyrants one mile away?"

The colonel's face buckled in confusion upon seeing the withered face of his old friend. "Captain Martin, I understood you to be a patriot?"

Ben shifted his weight from one foot to another before regaining clarity. "If you mean by _'Patriot,'_ am I angry about taxation without representation? Well, yes I am. Should the American colonies govern themselves?" he took a deep breath before carefully advancing in speech, "I believe they can and they should, but if you're asking me if I am willing to go to war with England? Well then the answer is most definitely no."

A cragged old voice emerged from a sickly looking man who was now in an upward stance. "This from the same Captain Benjamin Martin whose fury was so famous during the Wilderness campaign?"

Ben viewed his two children who were present from his side of the room. Gabriel and Thomas, unaware of his impending glare, were sharing confused glances with one another having heard such comments being passed in jest to their father before. "I was intemperate in my youth," he countered with little affect.

The aged man adjusted the glasses sliding down his nose and scowled at the ex-officer, "Temperance can be a disguise for fear."

Harry, who was more than aware of Ben's temperamental nature, stood quickly to abet his old friend. "Mr. Middleton, I fought with Captain Martin under Washington in the French and Indian War. There's not a man in this room, or anywhere for that matter, to whom I would more willingly trust my life."

The elderly man, bested by the Colonel's superiority, sat back down. Though this battle was over with, Ben saw this war against a war no sooner done and remained standing to fight his claim, "There are alternatives to war. We take our case before the king. We plead with him."

"Yes, we've tried that," Harry asserted curtly.

Benjamin was disgruntled, but not discouraged with his companion's pessimism, but the false hope in the air gave him the encouragement to think that if he pressed on he could change their minds. "Well, then, we try again and again if necessary to avoid war."

Harry sighed and steadied his sight on Ben's vibrant blue eyes, "Benjamin, I was at Bunker Hill. The British advanced three times. We killed over seven hundred at point-blank range and still they took the ground. That is the measure of their resolve. If your principles dictate independence, the war is the only way. It has come to that."

"I have eight children," the man retaliated, "My wife is dead. Now who's to care for them if I go to war?"

Every person in the room froze at the thought that no one dared bespeak, but while the rest of the assembly mulled over their anxiety of furthering the conversation Harry continued, "Wars are not fought by childless men only."

Benjamin accepted his opponent's response, acknowledging so with a nod, but in no such way did it change where he stood. "Granted, but mark my words. This war will be fought, not on the frontier or some distant battlefield, but amongst us. Among our homes."

People began to straighten in their seats, the eloquence of his words resonating throughout everyone for and against the war. Benjamin observed as faces puckered with anger, disbelief, and worry, but such a reactions did not prevent him from going on. "Our children will learn of it with their own eyes. And the innocent will die with the rest of us," he glanced briefly across the room at his son Gabriel who was squirming in his seat, before looking back up to stare into the eyes of his accuser. "I will not fight, and because I will not fight I will not cast a vote to send others to fight in my stead."

Benjamin had thought he had gotten his point across with much effect on the men and women around him, but there was one whose tenet could not be so easily trifled with.

"And what are your principles?" questioned the Colonel as he crossed the space between himself and the rows of slip seats.

The single father looked dimly into the eyes of his brother-in-arms, "I'm a parent. I haven't got the luxury of principles." With this parting phrase the sullen man sat back into his spot. The men around him purposely adverted their eyes from his person in fear of what kind of acerbic reaction they could possibly provoke.

To everyone's surprise, but Benjamin's, his eldest son got to his feet and stormed out of the courthouse in a rage. Gabriel left his fury resounding with the echo of the door slamming against the wall, but his haste had blinded him to the petite figure hiding behind the back of a pew.

She knelt there, with her hands thoroughly coiled around the ruffle of her collar, until the rush of air from the outside was firmly cut off by the closing of the exit. With a relieved suspire the small girl pulled golden strands of hair, which had got caught, from her mouth.

That was too close for comfort for her frenzied heart to be in such close quarters with her brother. Dare say anybody in her family had found her nestled unknowingly into the crowds of politic conscious men and women they would have gone berserk. Ben would have never permitted her to come, so her interest in the outcome of this assembly had to remain a secret between her and herself. Her pesonel concern was in the result of their decision, for she could foretell how it would influence her content, hardworking, sheltered family. If the levy passed she knew Gabriel would instantly enlist with the continentals with or without the agreement of their father, pulling the family apart over the next seasons, and Thomas would not be too many years far to follow down the same path. All she could do was pray that no such thing was to happen.

A quiver shot up her spine as the picture of her brother's dressed in navy jacket's and white breeches marching into combat formed in her mind. She shook the image out of her head and focused on the problem at hand. Despite her deepest and honest curiousity in the assembly she knew it was too much to risk staying until the conference ended, which was an epoch in the process not to long off. So now was the time to depart, having heard her father's impacting speech, if she was to leave her family none the wiser of her presence.

With her direction set towards the egress she dropped to the heels of her hands. The men sitting in the benches above her gave her no notice for their short attention spans were already transfixed on the political rally that had once more been stirred up as every man cast their vote.

The soft, pink fabric of her gown dragged across the dirty pine floor while she crawled closer and closer towards her objective. What a pity that such a dress was being tarnished, but Caroline could not have cared less if she had been wearing a hessian sack or the finest of silks for she would have treated it all the same. All she needed to do was get out!

Having reached the door she extended her hand upwards and clasped the knob for which she then turned towards her. With the subtle release in tension the door slid open, giving her a foot or so space to slip through unseen by those on the inside, but what of those who were waiting on the opposite side of the wall?

She reveled in the fact that she was almost safe, but could not help but get the bemused stares of onlookers who had witnessed her coming out of the courthouse on her hands and knees. Upon realizing the growing amount of eyes examining her she concurred it would be best to get up.

Once upright again she began hurriedly running down the stairs right as a young boy came bursting out of the courthouse. "28 to 12. The levies been passed!" he announced throwing his hands up in the air. Everyone followed accordingly to their views and shot off guns and hats ceremoniously into the air. In the blur of musket powder and smoke Caroline maneuvered her way throughout the growing crowd around the magnificent brick building, her mind constantly chewing the words, _Oh if they would have only listened to him. _

Her father was right. More right than anybody would probably be willing to admit. He vocalized her worst fears that were set in the pit of her stomach, inevitably waiting to come true, _Gabriel leaving, innocents dying, Thomas following._ She grimaced and wondered, _Why_ _were men so belligerent?_

Not too long into her dreading did Caroline become aware that she had caught the wandering eye of Colonel Harry Burwell as he stepped out from the building.

It took him a few moments to register that the near emerald orbs he had just beheld were indeed the irises of one's eyes and not the mere gleam of a precious stone, but that was not the only thing that intrigued him about the tiny creature that bore them. She was a Martin, no question about it, but there still remained this indescribable difference in her face that left the Colonel questioning, _What was it? _And why couldn't the vivacity of her visage fade in his mind. This effect lasted long after she disappeared into the forest of people, leaving him with a definite curiousity in the bewitching maiden. He supposed she would just have to remain among the few faces he was to always remember and ponder.

The sudden cold shoulder of a man storming past him interrupted his thoughts. Colonel Burwell watched as Benjamin Martin made a b-line through the hoards of men and women to his son who was standing stiffly in the center of it all. Harry's sudden interest in the family's dynamics piqued as he followed his friend through the people, bumping shoulders with human creatures of all rank from politician to tramp, baker to merchant. His feet then suddenly stopped in motion at a considerable distance away to hear the conversation that was to unfold.

"You intend to enlist without my permission?" Ben asked, exhibiting a startlingly good self-control in his tone.

His son turned on his heel to face his father who was but mere inches away from his face. "Yes, I do," divulged the young man who was staring quizzically into the eyes of his predecessor, "Father I thought you were a man of principle?"

Benjamin felt the blow that shattered him to the core, forcing his lip to retract into his mouth to silence the scream that was threatening to escape. "When you have a family of your own," he started shakily, "You will understand."

Gabriel observed his father's pained face and spoke, "When I have a family of my own I won't hide behind them."

Harry watched the scene conclude with Gabriel storming off towards the line to enlist. This left Ben standing there staring after his son. The Colonel had not realized that he had absent mindedly walked towards the display as it culminated, and that before long found himself right behind the shoulder of the broken man. "He's as imprudent as his father was at his age," Harry exclaimed.

Ben knew instantly who he was speaking with and chose to keep his eyes on Gabriel. "Regrettably so," he muttered.

Concern radiated out from behind Ben's outer wall of indifference, influencing Harry's right mind to suggest something that, under any other condition, he would never do. "I will see to it he serves under me, make him a clerk or a quartermaster, something of that sort."

The Colonel knew it was wrong for him to try to preserve one soldier's life over another, but under the circumstance, which was what Benjamin had already lost, he knew he had to do it for what he owed to the man who had his back on and off the battle field many years ago.

Benjamin finally turned to face the officer behind him with a faint smirk, "Good luck."

Harry hid his smile and nodded sternly as Ben began to walk away with his son and sister-in-law following close on his heels. His eyebrows furrowed, _Where was his daughter? _"Captain Martin?" Harry probed once more.

Ben turned around abruptly to face the Colonel, "Yes?"

Harry's eyes drifted from side to side in search of that small face that he suspected to once more reappear with the rest of the family. "Had you only brought _two_ of your children?"

Benjamin nodded slowly, eyeing his companion speculatively. "Yes, why exactly do you inquire?" he asked, suspicion pursing his lips and squinting his eyes.

Another smile threatened to creep up the Colonel's face, but he managed to keep it ruled into firm line. "No reason," he affirmed before sharply turning around and marching back towards the courthouse with an amused grin. _Now she is exactly like her father! _he deemed with a chuckle.

**Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be up sometime in the next week or so. Tell me what you thought of this chapter!**


	5. The Affects of Fifteen

**WELL APPARENTLY, I am being spited by some unknown force that has ensconced itself in my computer, but more directly on this website. It seems to take pleasure in never saving anything I edit when I use Document Manager. Hmm. Well now isn't that disappointing. I came to terms with this all in mid-shower and rushed down to correct all of these errors. Anyway, despite this little realization of mine I firstly find myself in need of saying some apologies for those who had read this chapter before I have updated it. Secondly, I apologize for taking so EXTREMELY long to get out my next chapter (Being this Chapter). School has had me tied up, shackled, and gagged for the last few weeks so, unfortunately, the story was slightly put on the back burner for a while. For those who may be wondering, "Will this be a common wait for a new chapter?" My reply to you is I surely hope not! I will made it my mission to get on out _at least _every two weeks, _at least! _But unfortunately things do come up so if I take so horribly long, please do not be cross with me.**

**Any how, thank you to those who have commented on this chapter, subsequently, and prior chapters and alerted, etc. They always make me feel good. One question that was asked about the last chapter was, "Where did Caroline go towards the end of the chapter?" Unfortunataly I cannot say, to those of you who are confused, that there is a very interesting answer to that, like she found Narnia or something of that nature. All it was is she needed to get home before her family or else they would have known she was out. **

**Chapter SONG:**

**_Blackberry Stone-Laura Marling_ (Picture this in a more, if anyone does listen to them, like a sibling-kind-of-way as opposed to thwarted-lover-kind-of-way. Also Laura Marling is a PHENOMENAL singer/lyricist! PHENOMENAL)**

Chapter Five: The Affects of Fifteen

_ South Carolina 1778_

_"__Dear Thomas: Though many seasons have passed it seems like only yesterday that we last saw each other in Charles Town. It was with great sadness that I learned of its recent fall to the British under General Cornwallis. I received a letter from Aunt Charlotte telling me that she had closed her home in Charles Town, after the city fell, and moved to her plantation on the Santee. _

_Here in the north, our campaign has been marked by defeat and privation. Our losses have been grievous. My good friend, Peter Cuppin, fell at Elizabethtown. His death has been difficult to bear. _

_We are told that soon we will march south with General Gates to fight the Redcoats under Cornwallis. _

_I envy you, your youth, and distance from this cruel conflict of which I am a part. But I consider myself fortunate to be serving the cause of Liberty. And although I fear death, each day in prayer I reaffirm my willingness to give my life in its service. Pray for me. But above all, pray for the cause. Your loving brother, Gabriel.__"_

The children stood solemnly, cheeks sunken, eyes desolate as Thomas finished speaking. This letter held a cryptic meaning that bore neither good nor poor news, moreover the fact that Gabriel was still on the battle field left no on at ease.

Caroline, face pressed against the door frame, held her spot until the eye of her brother, Thomas, caught hers. What was it bitterness or sadness that lay behind them? She could not cognate what his mind was weaving at the moment and, in truth, she had no want to know. The contempt that now pushed them apart burned indescribably and, at worst thought, indefinitely.

It was never spoken as to what tore them away from one another in that, seemingly, unbreakable bond, but speculations could not help but rise. _Was it their opposing views? _Age had turned a quarrelsome friendship into a sour loathing. Words said in jest were now shared sparsely and, at best, cruelly. Playful arguments about their childish ponderings had now turned into ruthless shouting matches over conflicting morals, _one for war, one against_. Even then no resolve ever came.

The nostalgic minor feuds of prior days could only be yearned for in Caroline's ever changing mind. Two and a half cold years had passed and evidence of her ever progressing age were now visible in her newly defined countenance and sharpened eyes. A grimace frequented her lips at the sting of the number. _Fifteen._She regarded the strange queer numeral as unsuiting for her, unbecoming, and befuddling, but above all she surmised it simply not to be _right_.

The reason why Caroline held this strong certainty was unknown, but, very quickly, she convinced herself that the affect if the number itself were the bane of forces that separated her from her brother as they both grew into, what some call, adults. Things such as values, marriage, and work now had weigh on their conscious. Albeit, in the throes of war, no such things as relationships could be maintained, much to Caroline's pleasure, but that did not mean that there were not still looming reminders; like the ever ticking grains of sand in the hourglass of their minds that counted down till their ultimate deprival of one another as the road that they traversed upon, inevitably, forked.

Caroline often found herself wondering if Thomas feared this event, or, at least, felt something more than anger and spite when thinking of her. Did he regret these years of bickering? Did he shy away from the thought of this separation upon them? Did he remember their happiness? Their laughter? Their secrets?

She took in his penetrating stare for a seconds more worth of time before she pulled back into the hallway out of his sight. _He had forgotten._ She bit down onto her lips and sucked back a flood of emotions that threatened to escape her. Such vulnerabilities need not be shown at times such a those, for she knew that there were worse sufferings than her own occurring. Men were dying hopelessly on battlefields, civilians were being shot groundlessly, and people's lively hoods were being burned as they were cast aside to watch. All she could do now was pray such sorrow would have no affect on those she loved, instead of brooding in self pity. So pray is what she did.

"Spare Gabriel's life in this time of strife, lord. Spare him and save this forgotten cause," she whispered under her breath as she receded into her house, the soft word _'please'_ coiling itself on her tongue every few moments. _"Please… please….. please."_

* * *

The arms of the red coat hung off his shoulders, leaving him feeling only half as dashing as he had imagined. Thomas glowered at himself in the mirror and readjusted the navy lapels further upon his collar bone. It remained sitting awkwardly upon his lanky frame despite this recent adjustment.

"What are you doing?"

Thomas' heart leapt from his chest as he jerked his head around to view his father standing in the door way. The guilt of being caught caused his cheeks to flush, but the young man remained silent, his mouth dry of any response.

"Turn around," Benjamin commanded softly, advancing towards the mock-soldier. His son all but unwillingly obeyed to be assisted, but after a few moments of struggle he gave way to the strong hands of his father as he slid the coat off his arms. When the garment fell back into Benjamin's grasp Thomas made a move to walk away only to be stopped by Ben's low voice, "And the hatchet?"

He looked down at the ornately designed weapon with an eager longing. Images of him having such a weapon in his holster shrouded his mind, but with each passing month he became dubious such hopes would ever come true.

"When?" he asked and passed the tomahawk, motioning to the gently folded jacket resting in his father's hands.

Ben looked down at the red mass with distaste, and recalled the acts of malice that the very colour had forced him to carry out. He could not possibly expect to have another son endure the same fate. "Two years," he asserted, placing the bundle atop a stool.

With a firm arm Thomas boldly turned his father around to face him. "I'll be seventeen, the wars been on for two years. It could be over by then!"

"Oh, god willing," Benjamin exclaimed, turning his cheek from his child. He felt he need not let his son see him in this state of susceptibility, for he saw it as his duty to be the base upon which his children's sheltered home life stood. But, as every man versed in the art of building knew, no house could be held up with a cracking foundation.

Thomas took no notice of his father's dwindling ease and interpreted his vague remark as that of an agreement. "Alright, seventeen," he outstretched his arm to his father.

Benjamin stared at it hesitantly. By grasping his son's hand he pleased all of Thomas' momentary aspirations, but by doing so he also signed away his very life. For what was in greater value to be appeased.

"Alright," Ben murmured, enduring every sting the word had to offer, before he apprehensively slid his hand into his son's, "Put it away please." He stared at that awful, awful red for but mere moments before he could no longer tolerate its mocking crimson shade and turned and walked away. Thomas could not live through what he had! Benjamin had made a promise to his wife that he would protect their children, not send them away for the impending demise of their whole being! Ben knew Thomas would not come back the same person, as well as Gabriel, for he knew that he himself had not.

"Father?"

Thomas' voice interrupted these stirrings inside Ben.

"What happened at Fort Wilderness?"

The man sucked back on his lip. That place, that time, that horror followed him wherever he went. It defined him, it had become him! Why could the past not be left in the past? He had vowed to himself never to divulge the happenings to his children, or, at least, another one of them.

"Put it away," he whispered before finally retreating out of the room.

Thomas sighed. _Whatever he's hiding, it must be good! _he supposed as he placed the jacket back into the trunk in which he found it.

"Do you really think anything will change?"

This soft, low voice caused every nerve in his body to prickle in aggravation. Would she never leave him alone? "What?" he spat as he flew around to face her, his acerbity resonating between them by fault of his lingering scowl.

Caroline cautiously approached Thomas. If she was to speak with him civilly patience was to be a virtue. So with this in mind she elaborated, "If you join the continentals, do you really believe anything will change?"

Had she no hope in him? Thomas, at wits end with her pessimism, hissed back, "Everything will change." He then straightened out his spine and approached his sister, using his superior height as a form of intimidation. "I'll make it change."

Caroline was, and Thomas knew very well, stronger than that to be impacted by and such acts of feigned power. She would just remain undaunted, as ordinary, holding a soldiers posture and a curled lip.

The young lady then proceeded to speak in a cool manner while her vivid eyes bored into his, "Hopeful words for someone who has never wielded a musket in man to man combat." Her brother's hostile reaction to her statement increased her feeling of obligation to continue testing the limits of her brother's composure, "You could die."

Thomas stepped back, but not in defeat. With a determination like his he could not be so easily beaten down by a short sequence of words, but, instead, had to be ruthlessly assaulted by a spew of validating retaliations. As much as it would hurt Caroline to do so she knew this as the only way possible to repress Thomas' wild antics. Momentarily.

"But would that not be a valiant death?" her brother demanded, his gesticulations picking up fervor as they spun and danced around the space between them.

Caroline, still as stiff and unmoved as before, calmly spoke his retribution, "It would be an undeserved death."

Thomas had paused his performance long enough to absorb each cutting syllable of her sentence. He was almost unable to rack his mind around the resolution that she had actually eluded to caring for him. But in as short of time as the words that had left him dumbfounded passed her lips his belief in this notion being beget from some truth dissipated.

After ten afflicting moments spent waiting for his response Caroline justified him to be as indifferent as prior to her statement. There was no use in fighting to get the thought into his head that death could touch him as much as any other man! His mind was far too calloused and his body far too unwilling to take in her words for what they were.

She stepped back on her heel and spun around, in pursuit of the open doorway that led into the hall, but Thomas, far too belligerent for his own good, followed after her in hopes of securing some reaction from her cached emotions. "Fighting in a war for your country is something to be proud of," he proclaimed, taking hold of his sister's narrow shoulders to prevent her from evading the burgeoning argument.

Entrapped between his procuring eyes and a wall of the corridor, stone faced Caroline was spry to retort, "Fighting in a war for any reason is romanticized."

"How so?" he inquired, a flippant air endowing his person.

Many ears would have been staggered to hear such a soft spoken girl speak as freely as she was about to, but not her brother, "Thomas because it's not simply about gaining the glory! There are unmendable atrocities that lead to this victory that cannot be undone. All your efforts! All that triumph that you think you will gain! It will be only half deserved after you look back upon the bloodshed."

Caroline struggled to choke back the sentiments that ensconced themselves in her throat. Every thing she had ever said, every tear that had ever menaced her to be held in, it wall all for naught. She could tear the very soul from her body trying to get her words through to him and it would still be redundant. Was he really that unreachable?

This storm of emotions swirled inside her rousing feelings that she wished to remain buried. _She could not loose another, she could not…_she could not bear being with him any longer. Ruled by this torment inside her, Caroline's body willed itself to pound away from her long-having-forgotten brother. She conceded her actions by the settlement that if he was so determined to destroy himself, she would be no witness to it.

"You know I'll change this all Caroline!" he shouted after her, "I'll be the man to kill the worst of the British. The very worst!" Thomas wished to leave her with words that maddened people like hers did, unlike prior remarks that had come from his mouth lacking all of their intended affect. He needed to make her feel the same affliction as he felt. "I'll be the man to kill 'The Butcher.'"

In mid-pace she abruptly landed her foot. The name was infamous. This _man_, though many found it hard to use such a term when in correlation with his name, was known for his brutal tactics of war that surpassed the normal call of duty. He had taken every opportunity to, by example, show people how he could horribly mutilate and displace their lives. His threats left every man, woman, and child on the edge of fear, praying that they would not be his next victim. The person to kill such a man would be canonized, but above all, would have to be a versed veteran of the army, not some wide eyed child with fantasies of war.

She could feel the muscles beneath her bodice tighten with each smothering respiration. Then, with the same rigidity as a tree attempting to contort its trunk, she turned to face him. "Or will you just be one of the many naïve boys he kills?"

Five breaths fluttered from their chests only fall lifelessly to the floor as the inference was made. Her tongue had outwitted him again. Sore in defeat, Thomas pondered incredulously if he was ever going to be able to win as he stalked away, fuming, into his room. The slam of his door behind him indicated her release from this toiling.

Gravely Caroline continued down the hallway, the moan of the aging wooden planks beneath her lessened with each step. If it was her desire to hurt him she would do so by inflicting boundless suffering upon her victim, but that was not her intention with her brother. How she viewed it was that if by hurting him, and ultimately herself, meant sparing his life for that little bit longer, she would do so willingly.

Despite all the bitter words and unfinished feuds she would let no conflict make her care any less for her brother's well being, even if that meant jeopardizing her own. This was the manner in which she thought every family should act to one another, no matter what other factors had affect in their lives. For at the end of the day, she knew, they were all she had.

With a mind blurred in wallow and worry the presence of other things and persons could be easily overlooked, but even while distracted by other meanderings Caroline had not the ability to flit down the stairs without acknowledging her father standing mid-staircase. Involuntarily she had stopped moving and stared into Ben's clouding blue eyes, before she came to the realization he had heard every thing she had said.

This sudden and surprising fact caused her lip to quiver as she trivially sought out what she could say or do after being preceded by such an argument as that which had just occurred. The time ticked away as his eyes dissected hers. "Good evening father," was all she was able to produce.

He stood there without a word. Absorbing the unnatural burst of emotion that he lay witness to, but the deafening silence that hung between them too promptly consumed Caroline until she could no longer find the will in herself to stay. No sooner then when this conclusion was made did she continue briskly down the stairs.

Benjamin raised an arm after her, but it was fruitless for she had already rounded the corner of the downstairs hallway leaving nothing in the wake of her steps, but the vague notion that she had been there, that she had said those things.

The man, still physically unmoved, stood there and reflected, with mixed feelings, on what she had expressed to Thomas in that short burst of frustration. How could a young woman, with so little experience of the world herself, divulge that true of an understanding of mortal anguish. He could not help but feel he had faulted her those many years ago in telling her about-what had happened.

Yet with an earnest for knowledge such as hers he knew he would not have been able to put if off for much longer. But this brought to his mind another melancholy reminder of a way he had wronged his promise to Elizabeth. _"Protect the children," _she had pleaded, exhausting the last few breaths she had left in her body. Was it for him to interpret this plea as having one in war, agreeing to have one enlisted in the army, and poisoning the innocent mind of another. This feeling of failure was no longer just associated with his late wife, but with his children. He had failed everyone he held dear.

Benjamin stepped onto the last stair and peered into the room in which Caroline attempted to conceal herself. The younger children were at the brink of panic as they gazed out dusty windows in search of answers. The faint sound of musket fire was gradually losing its ability to be assumed as thunder rolling in over the horizon, but as it truly was; a nearing battle.

"Caroline, what is it? What is that noise?" demanded a frantic Margaret who clutched desperately at Susan's small head.

The young woman rested her hand on the girl's shoulder and crooned, "Margaret, it is nothing you are to worry about, you are fine!"

No one would believe such a conviction so quickly with that type of fear set in their minds. "But, but-"

Caroline narrowed her gaze on the juvenile's deep hazel eyes, "Margaret," she said in a firm tone.

The young girl tucked her chin into her neck as she tried to repress her worries, "You promise it's going to be fine?"

Benjamin's eldest daughter then proceeded to smile assuredly, "I promise."

Ben recoiled back, seating himself in a crux of the staircase, and held his face, fretting over this inability he saw in himself to keep his word. "I'm so sorry I have disappointed you," he whispered, the floating dust motes from his passing breath were the only things to rise in response to his apology. He had not the ability in him to make amends for something as terrible as a broken promise.

* * *

The blasts from muskets created booming noises that travelled from the fields in which they were initially maintained, over the trees, to the Martin family's porch. Tensions were high as the sound, which had started out as soft as the distant coo of a morning dove, had grown to become equivalent to the screech of a stalking crow.

Little William clung close between the folds of Caroline's dress. His anxiety radiated through his skin. His sister had felt his trembling and with a gentle, reassuring hand she stroked his back, but this gesture brought little comfort. This feat was made even more impossible as their father reaffirmed their worst beliefs. "Six pounders. Lots of them."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. The older boys tried to cover up their fear with a mock confidence. "How far away?" Samuel asked, inflating his chest muscles to fake the look of strength. Caroline simpered and gently squeezed his shoulder, coaxing him back into submission. A mans bravery could not be judged by the size of his silhouette, but by the actions which preceded it.

"Oh, they're a long way off. They're most likely heading in the other direction," Ben's voice tittered with uncertainty as he tried to convince his disbelieving children of their safety, despite the truth about the limited means he had to protect them from such a hazard.

Another musket explosion sounded off in the near by woods. The young kin backed towards their home from the nearing danger, but calm could not be held as Thomas, with no expectance of his family, burst out of the front door with two muskets in hand.

Caroline looked at him incredulously. He could not expect their father to allow this?

Upon catching the first glance of Thomas passing a gun to Nathan Ben sharply commanded him, "Thomas put those in the house!"

His son's stubborn nature willed him to remain standing there in search of the ecstasy a battle would leave him with. It was so close Thomas could smell the gun powder, his distance from the conflict was so short it hurt to think about it.

Caroline Grimaced. It was a shame Thomas' eagerness did not transcend into commonsense, for, if so, he would have backed into the house by then or, at best, never have come out with such belongings in hand.

"Father they might come-" he tried to utter in defense of his plight only to be interjected by Benjamin's adamant voice.

"Thomas must I tell you again?"

The lad's fragile pride quivered as his siblings looked upon him. How he hated his father's patronizing tone, and hated their prying eyes, and most of all he hated Caroline's knowing look that she made no attempt to hide. Anger caused a grouse to tear through his chest as he stormed back into the house, leaving little to the imagination of how the events of the night would proceed. Miserably!

Ben had caught sight of the aggression that welt up in his son's eyes and noticed how most of the aggravation had come from looking upon his daughter. She made an attempt to hide her wandering stare, but he understood the cusp of their hostility, so he retracted his attention off the issue. "Let all stay close to the house tonight," he stated, before corralling them towards the door.

This assertion was agreed with promptly, thus sending his children fighting for a way to pass through the doorway. Caroline and Ben both sighed, unbeknownst to one another. _They'd never learn, _they thought.

**I hope you all liked it! Tell me what you thought? Thank for reading! Expect another chapter up really soon because this was supposed to be one huge chapter, but I thought that it not only pushed the lines of an acceptable length of a chapter but totally surpassed this "Line." So you guys will not be waiting long.**


	6. Pandora's Box

**Well hello dear readers, the wait has been relatively long. I am happy to say that in the next chapter Tavington does indeed get involved. For a good reason? We all know that it is not. Anyway, thank you to those of reviewed I love your comments they are wonderful. Thank you also for bearing with the wait between chapters.**

**Well to those of you who listen to the chapter songs, or maybe those that just enjoy reading my tyrades about nothing, I confess I have no chapter song for this chapter. "Why?" one may ask. The answer to that is that though I find his chapter semi-important in understanding the relationship between Caroline and her family, it just does not have the need for a song. For those few of you may actually listen to them, you could always just listen to Blackberry Stone by Laura Marling (last chapter's song) and pretend this was just a continuation of the last chapter. Which it very well could be. **

**Oh and by the way before you read note this, _"NO",_ Caroline is not suffering a mental breakdown in this chapter, but is more revealing that she conceals too many of her emotions and is thus enduring the consequences of this. I just wanted to throw that out there before anyone got worried. Thank you to all who click my little story title thing in the menu, now you may read on. **

Chapter Six: Pandora's Box

The meal was eaten restlessly. Utensils scraped nervously at plates and knees bobbed up and down rattling the table. The words that threatened to pry everyone's mouth agape were those that inquired about the incoming battle. Were they safe where they were? What would happen to them? How was Gabriel fairing in this fight?

"They'll probably kill us men and do lord knows what to you women," Nathan exclaimed before taking a massive bite of his chicken leg.

This disclosure was met by muffled laughter and soft, sharp drawn breaths. Putting these thoughts into the children's head did nothing for the fragile calm that they all tried to preserve.

"There is no need to say such things right now," scorned his sister, with a ruling finger, while Abigail nodded agreeably.

Nathan's open posture shrunk inwards as his overwhelming pride began to deflate in his chest.

Caroline, having realized his shame was caused by her scolding, made haste to correct her fault. She reasoned with her lips to form a smile and her hands to pat him reassuringly on the back. The forlorn expression, which had overtaken his features, was quick to absolve with this kind gesture. A contented look blessed her face as she watched him recover and return to his prior mannerism. Now that she was satisfied with the damage control she had performed, she saw this as the perfect time for her to make her leave.

"Thank you Abigail for the meal," she said with a gently sloping curtsy. Their matronly housekeeper grinned and went back to eating the contents of her plate.

Caroline, having then rounded the corner from the dining room, emerged into the main hallway. Her objective was then the kitchen. The light from the wrought iron candleholders that hung from the walls around her did little for her vision, thus damning her to traverse half blind down the corridor. After a few stubbed toes, a bumped knee, and a small scrape to the elbow she managed to find her way into the right room. Caroline then proceeded towards the wash basin where she was about to rinse her plate.

The clear water sat still in its container. At the time it had almost seemed too perfect for her to disrupt it until, to her surprise, the glassy surface of the water began to buckle. She had half the mind to question such a strange occurrence, but fatigue and impatience willed her to dismiss the observation.

Yet Caroline's curiousity was not to be so easily ignored. It had the determination of a starving infant crying out for food and had just as menacing of an impact on the mind. The pounding in her brain. The ever constant stare. The burn of temptation!

It took but mere moments for her patience with this wailing to end. It was insufferable! Yet she did not have the time to indulge its circumstance. Though, much to her luck, she was a quick witted girl. That meant she was able to promptly realize what her only other option was if she wanted to feed this insatiable appetite.

Coyly she bit down on her bottom lip as her grasp on the plate slighted, sending the object plummeting from her hands. As the pewter came crashing down against the water, small waves leapt over the sides of the porcelain basin like breakers against the shore. "Can you figure it out now?" she spat amusedly at herself. There was a satisfying quiet in her head as the water ebbed back into still.

A devious smile crept upon her face. Half of her agenda was accomplished now, with this contention with herself resolved, she had only one more thing to complete. Caroline turned to pace back towards the parlor where Thomas was presently playing with his leaden soldiers.

If it was not the inclosing threat, the accumulating concern, and, aside from Nathan's outburst, the unusually quiet meal, it very well could have been the combination of them all having that strange reaction on her mind.

Caroline had always supposed she would have been someone who was humble in defeat, but her belief had never been verified for she had ever lost in an attack of the tongue. So with this disposition commonly on her side she had never found any reason for her to exhibit such sentiments. Yet some unknown emotion that raged inside her that day caused Caroline, for the sake of everyone around them, to feel obliged to lay down her pride in order to end their frivolous verbal duels.

Caroline would respectably do this all in spite of the fact that she saw herself as having no fault in the predicament, but, being an intelligent girl, she knew that such an air could not be presented while trying to cease this feuding. She was forced to come to terms with the measures she must go to for her to end this battle.

Firstly, she must convince him of her worthiness. Caroline supposed he would remember some good qualities about her; she just needed to amplify their presence in his mind through words. Secondly, the unbreakable bond of their past friendship. Nostalgic memories of triumph and joy were an essential key in softening his demeanor; she could not fathom him forgetting their times together? Lastly, she must praise _his_ overall greatness. Or, at least the greatness she would claim he had.

It was to be quite a feat, but Caroline felt as though she had the conviction in her person to pursue what some would have deemed, by any means, _unobtainable_.

The young woman gave herself an assured nod and gauged the well formulated plan to be fool proof. Unbeknownst to her, as she advanced towards her destination, mind clouded in self satisfying bliss, that there were ulterior factors she had yet to count on that jeopardized her good willed intentions.

As Caroline's steps gained in sound and ardency so did each thought that flew through her head. She had the capability to resurrect their bereft of life friendship, her motives were those of a philanthropist. The strength from these confident musings was felt through every one of her extremities, coaxing a smile to grace her lips.

She was far too blithe to realize where she stood and looked up prematurely, expecting be at the doorway of the parlor. Her face suddenly froze and contorted in terror. The delineation of a man in her dimmed egress had seized her heart, rendering her unable to yell. Stiffly she attempted to stagger away from him, but her joints were far too rigid for such want of an action to have any affect.

Forthwith her stomach churned, sending a wave of nausea, upon gazing at the discernable crimson liquid which had fallen from the man's sleeve against the palely lit wood floor. _What could this man's intentions be with my family? _She then realized she likely had not the time to figure out such a trivial question.

"Turn slowly," he father directed, appearing through the darkness behind the intruder. His presence in the stand off had a similar impact on her as a ray of sun would have had on that somber night.

The man responded with a soft, almost, inaudible groan, as he obliged his superior. _What horror could be that, which is his face?_But as the brilliance being shed from the flame upon the wall veiled his features all of Caroline's initial fears was rapidly replaced with concern. For the man!

Caroline, who was too consumed with shock to be able to ignite the use of the muscles in her lips, looked on in horror as her father shifted the lock of his rifle into the firing position. _It is upon me to protect my family._ With this vow came a sudden burst of adrenaline through every estuary of blood buried beneath her shallow flesh, followed by the release of the iron grip on her heart, thus liberating the voice that had waylaid in her chest, "Father, its Gabriel!"

Confusion pulled at Benjamin's face as he hesitated to put down the gun, but then, as more eyes began to observe the scene, gasps of shock voided the air of oxygen, and the abrupt clatter of feet towards the hallway filled the space, he realized then he must listen. The pandemonium in which Caroline's exclamation had produced, despite being an overwhelming eruption of bedlam, resolved itself to be all for good reason. It was Gabriel.

"Abigail! Water and bandages fast!" shouted Benjamin as he dropped his gun to the floor and dragged his son's dead weight to a settee. Everyone crowded around the bloodied man, his face barely recognizable as their brother, to gawk at his once soft features, which were now hardened and calloused. His brown eyes, which once beamed a lively glow, were now hollowed from any notion of life ever having existed in them. His skin and hair, which had once been an immaculate representation of youth, were now matted in blood, and dirt, and worse!

Though Caroline acknowledged this to be Gabriel, she knew that his appearance was not all that had been changed by the hands of war.

Thomas, who took no heed of the pain that constricted everyone's hearts and more importantly his brother, excitedly pushed passed his siblings. Upon reaching the other side of the wall of people he fell to his knees beside an only partly conscious Gabriel. What seemed to everybody to be a heartfelt moment between brothers commencing, turned into a selfish mockery of this soldier's strife. "Were there any red coats?"

Caroline's gentle eyes suddenly engorged with revulsion and the overpowering desire to shout at Thomas threatened to add to the tumult. _Was that the only thing he was able to produce right now?_ Instead of arguing him on his poor choice of words she chose to extend her arms back to contain the rest of the children. _At least one of us could prove ourselves selfless in a time of need._

"No, not yet," snapped their father to Thomas.

Affronted by this sudden acerbity, the naïve boy cowered away like a frightened dog. His lips quivered in some distant emotion, but such feelings were not beyond Caroline's comprehension. His egocentric nature was badly bruised by this reprimanding, thus scarring his pride, something which his sister had been willing to lay down moments ago in order to bury their bad blood. But this display of his validated her personal mission to be far more difficult that she had originally anticipated.

They all paused to watch attentively as Ben's fingers wound around the lapels of Gabriel's reddened shirt, but, right as he was about to tear open the tunic, some unknown whim caused him to hesitate. _They had already seen far too much suffering than any young people should have._ Benjamin sharply turned his head to behold his kin's swelling eyes. "Abigail, the children," he asked with his mandating stare fixated on Thomas. This boy would know better than to trifle with his father.

The housekeeper struggled to maneuver through the mass of bodies towards her informant, where she set down the nursing implements. "Come now children," she said as she turned about to herd them up the staircase.

Caroline deliberately stepped out of the direct line of Abigail's entrapping arms. There was little effort on her caretaker's part to wrangle her back in. Ben, having watched this, was about to inform his daughter to follow the others to their beds, but stopped short of speaking. Such a demand would fall upon deaf ears. She would remain anyway. So then the idea came to his head that he could make use of this added company and request the aid of her well trained hand and eye.

Upon seeing that Caroline had stayed downstairs with their Father and Brother, Thomas began to fight against every of Abigail's enclosing steps, but with the repressive voice of his Father echoing in Thomas' mind his unbreakable will found itself no sooner shattered. To fight was useless. He scowled down at his sister who stood staring pensively at their eldest brother. He was supposed to be down there, not her!

Caroline was too absorbed with the decrepit man that lay in front of her to notice that which was occurring in her immediate surroundings. It was very rare to have her so entranced, that she would not realize what was happening around her, but it seemed that this was the night this happening would reveal itself the most. Yet even then, those who were known for their obscene obliviousness would find it hard not to feel Thomas' eyes like daggers cutting into the back of their head, but who could have expected that he had managed to evade their housekeeper and hide atop the landing of their staircase? Caroline _usually_ would have, but not then.

Ben had waited a few minutes until the ruckus from upstairs had relinquished itself, before he finally opened his son's shirt. Gabriel's bare flesh, now exposed to impressionable eyes, adorned the bloody accessory that war had bestowed upon him. The fabric, which had then begun to cling to the tissue and fluids that resulted from the angry gash, inflamed his chest in a searing pain as it was ripped away from the skin.

Ben was taken aback that as he had began treating the wound his daughter had drawn towards him, instead of retreating like he thought she would do. But his utter and most confounded shock was propagated when she, blank faced, began wiping the accumulation of filth from her brother's brow.

His reaction was less that amicable as he pulled back abruptly to analyze her face, but she had expected such a rash reception as this. She was a girl; she was supposed to cower away from the thought of blood and the agony, much less its presence, not affront it.

Caroline had come to the conclusion that this night would pass far more easily if she stayed to her, usually, silent and obedient manner. This was the Caroline she often displayed around the majority of her family and she had never roused any contempt. It was agreed with herself that this eve was to pass without any added troubles. That meant she would just have to save the words she held Thomas for another day. After all, they had been fighting for almost a twelvemonth, so she could not find any reason to indicate that it would hurt to prolong their great apology for one more day. Besides, this quietude gave her the chance to intake the terrible story behind Gabriel's current suffering.

"Gates marched us straight at the Redcoats. Our lines broke. The British Green Dragoons cut us to bits."

In this pause in Gabriel's speech Ben glanced up at his daughter to find her unphased by the graphic summation of this portion of the battle. There were no signs of disgust, loathing, fear, nothing but a cool, collected expression. She was stronger than he had originally thought.

"I was given these dispatches. As I left, I saw the Virginia Regulars surrender. The Dragoons rode into them. Killed them all. Over 200 men!"

Gabriel, fueled by this anger, now found himself in an upright position in desperation to depart at once, but his father had the opposing view on this impulse. "You're in no position to ride!"

"I can't stay here! It's not safe-" his breath was abruptly cut short. There was no energy left in him to expel on such superfluous actions and as result he fell back onto his make-shift bed with a resounding _thump_.

With his slumber came his assent, now they had they were able to relay their full attention to nursing his wounds, cloth by cloth, stitch by stitch. The quiet atmosphere was maintained only to be interrupted every few moments by canon fire. Muskets no longer seemed to be their greatest threat, but they were too far taken by the awful nature of Gabriel's injuries to register fear.

"I saw you with Margaret earlier," Benjamin began, while watching his daughter move to wrapping gauze around his son's mid section. "You were great with her."

This praise brought forth no response from Caroline.

"Actually, you're always great with the children. You have the making to be a fine mother one day."

Caroline nodded appreciatively and whispered an emotionless, "Thank you."

Ben stared at his daughter in wonder. Where had the fiery young woman from before gone to and when had she been replaced with this speechless, diffident girl! After a moment of pondering he concurred he would have to pry the voice out of her. He wanted to hear her opinion for he knew she had one. He knew she was more than the average female of her age and, above all, he knew she was so much more than the average man.

"Do you want to be a mother?"

Caroline shrugged as she gently lay Gabriel back down onto the cushioned surface. "I suppose."

A beat passed between them. Benjamin had all but lost faith that procuring her again would gain any further response. Yet all of feelings changed dramatically as a delicate voice emerged from her lips. "Is that not what is expected of a young lady?" This was spoken more in the manner of a statement than an inquisition, but Ben, at his convenience, responded as though the latter.

"No, no, no! You can do anything you want with your life. Anything!" he exclaimed in desperate attempt to have his daughter exhibit a greater emotion while speaking with him.

She nodded concernedly, leaving Ben to believe this would be the extent of their discourse, but his assumption was quickly distinguished to be incorrect. "Would you let me join the army?"

Benjamin was unable to neither laugh nor frown for her expression made no notion to indicate the mirth nor seriousness behind this query.

"But, I, I thought you did not believe in war?" his question came stumbling off his tongue as he tried to mend the inchoate mess of tangling threads in his mind. What of all she had said? Did she not believe in her own words? Was what she had spoken just a ploy for Thomas, which he had become enraptured with?

"I don't," she conceded, "but you obviously would not want me to."

With her passing statement the worry that had choked him now allayed its grip, but no sooner could he feel regrets cold, smothering fingers wind around his neck as he began to speak, "It is not that I do not want you to, I just doubt you will be able to."

Caroline's eyebrows gave an unimpressed quirk as she returned to feverishly rubbing a wound.

The misconception had sent Benjamin veering off into the ditch aside the road which was supposed to lead him to her greater affection. He doubted that a blunder as great as that which he had just committed could be easily repaired after undergoing such a fall. "What I said was not to doubt your ability as a marksman, but to doubt _they're_ willingness in having a female in the army. I did not mean to offend."

Caroline, lacking Thomas' pig headed self importance, was surprisingly quick to accept her father's retribution. An attribute to her personality that Benjamin was not aware she acquired.

"I understand," she said, while a half smile reassured her declaration.

Silence soon fell gracelessly upon them again. Benjamin's expectations of having more of her personal prospects brought forth lessened and lessened with each passing second. But unless he was a mind reader he would not have been able to pick up on the thoughts which maddened his daughter's as she battled against herself to keep certain words unspoken. Yet even Caroline knew that a fight against her better half would produce nothing and so she quickly surrendered, thus reviving their dead conversation. "Father, if you can tell me no, then why can you not tell Thomas? Why could you not have told Gabriel?"

Ben recoiled from the shock wave sent out by this burst of emotion. His prodding had unleashed a side of her unknown to him. She had never spoken out so freely to Benjamin, much less expressed much more feeling than stone while around him. In that moment he had obtained more of her than he was willing to accept in such a brief instant. Yet this notion was quickly extinguished when he acknowledged the fact that he was willingly toying with Pandora's Box and had to suffer the repercussions of such actions.

With this understanding with himself emplaced, Ben made haste to take the higher ground and prepare for anything that she was to throw at him. "You know very well I can not Caroline."

Benjamin stared at the strange creature which was his Daughter in a confounded, but interested, shock as he waited for her next advance. He watched as her facial features condensed and knotted as she repressed the voice that now threatened to overtake her conscious being. Then, at what seemed to be the pique of her struggling, her expression dropped back to its mundane state.

"I know Father," she whispered sadly, "Its just, Thomas, he does not understand."

His affronted posture slowly composed itself. _A subtle approach,_ he thought, _could work as a more effective way of speaking with her._ "What does he not understand?" Benjamin asked in a level tone.

"He does not understand what war does to people. The things he could see. The images that will be permanently etched into his brain," she explained quietly, "He does not grasp any concept of the sorrow he will feel." A sigh was the last thing to escape her, now, empty lungs. She had tried to erase Thomas' mind of such silly thoughts of war before, but it was pitiless effort.

Ben felt Caroline's spirit slowly retracting itself back into submission deep within her. That person inside her that she kept caged like an animal spoke with such a genuine understanding of such a suffering, it was almost impossible to believe she had not experienced it herself. But now that girl was gone.

Lifelessly Caroline began wiping Gabriel's forehead with a cloth, despite it being redundant.

"And where did you learn of such things?" he inquired, straightening out his legs and bringing himself to his feet.

There was a momentary pause, before she replied, "I have a vivid imagination."

Benjamin examined his Daughter's benign features, that moments ago were being ravaged with pain. His own expression lightened for that brief second he saw Caroline's face crack a small smile, only to have it torn away from his eyes with another blast of a musket. This was a happening he surely would have ignored that night if it was not for its proximity to his home.

Sharply he turned to face the window that displayed the disturbing scene. His lush fields were being trampled by silhouettes of men, tormented screams sounded out from within mere dozens of yards of his house, and the surrounding wilderness was a lit with a warm, orange flame. The skeletons of the trees, which glowed in veils of musket fire, held a dark omen. Death was to come that night.

"There should be more men like you in the army," he stated abruptly to Caroline, though his eyes remained fixated on the battle.

His comment was followed by an unnaturally languid and calm response, "If there were more men like me, there would be no need for an army."

Ben was surprised to hear such a noble exclamation emerge from her lips after she imprisoned, what he could only describe to be, her inner person. Immediately he turned his head about to face her, expecting to see the torn and pained girl from before, yet her face was still gentle and inviting. He managed to form a half hearted smile. Maybe she was that fiery young woman in her; she just needed more time to accept it.

Benjamin's frame was suddenly basked in an amber light as the distinct sound of an explosion sounded off. He would wait to meet her on better terms.

**There are probably quite a few spelling and grammatical errors in this, I apoligize. My computer seems to hate me even more than usual today, it is being extrodinarily tempermental. Tell me what you thought about this chapter. I thank every one of you for reading. **


	7. Dissolution before Infliction

**Oh my has it been long! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Well I've been procrastinating long enough and I thought Christmas Eve to be a good of time as any to finally get this out. Sorry for it taking so long to be updated, but luckily, or unluckily, this chapter is double the size of any previous one to somewhat compensate for the wait. Before I start I would like to thank everyone who has left a review so far. LuciansLycanNightShade, Madness is me, Music24601, and MsNarcissaBlack, all of your comments have been amazing to hear. Not to mention everyone who has alerted, favourite-d, and in general read this story. Thank you all. By the way, Tavington is finally in the story.**

_**Chapter Song: A Shot Rung Out-Emily Jane White**_

Chapter Seven: Dissolution before Infliction

The affliction from his long fingers pulling at his hair brought forth no solace as he paced from one wall to another, muttering slurs as he went. A common man would be quick to assume him to be a manic, but the keen of eye and conscious of mind would be just as fast to realize he was no lunatic, he was thwarted brother.

"She understands nothing. That liar. That idiot…That liar… That liar!" he bellowed, thrashing his fists about in the air.

It was not in his prior nature to act like this, he knew that, but his rage had become a side of him he had yet to become familiarized with. It was as though his person had become torn into two halves, one was the outspoken, happy boy he knew and one was the dangerous, _impulsive_ stranger he had no want of knowing.

He dearly hoped that he had not become this, but, with each reoccurring thought filled with rash, untamed anger towards his sister, he realized his resentment had become him. _What could she ever know; she has never experienced any of those things she has claimed! She lies through her teeth! She, she-_

He could not even bring himself to think, much less _speak,_ her name for it burnt with the venom of the worst of profanities. _She is full of dishonesty, she is full of contradictions, she is full of- _

Abruptly he stopped in mid step. Not an enraged pondering crossed his mind in that moment which he lifted his eyes up from the floor to the pale wall, which would serve as his witness, "She is full of shi-"

Suddenly a low, feminine voice interjected his raving, holding a contrasting casual air, "May I suggest the next time you want to listen in on a conversation that you are not a part of, that you exert the effort to not to make such a ruckus when you leave?"

His spine contracted. _She just has to speak, doesn't she? _

Forcibly he turned on his heel to stare out his doorway, but, because of his inherent lack of urgency, could only manage to catch the fleeting image of ruffled skirts disappearing into the darkened room across the hall. It was better for them both that he had not seen her.

"Well I would not have left like that if it was not for the lies you spoke," he hissed, before turning his back away from the door once more. To see her face would have been too much. He knew how she would _look_ at him, with those eyes. He justified this by believing that ones worn down tolerance could easily snap and madden a man be it willing, thus turning him to utter words so malignant they hurt his head just to think them!

_Those damned looks…_

The faint creaks of the floor boards as she emerged from the shadows caught the attention of his ear. An irascible heat then began to burn beneath his skin with each step she took towards him. _Go away, go away, _he repeated only to have the sound of her steps grow louder and louder as they neared, causing the dull beat of his pulse in his head to grow louder and louder, making his desperate plight for relief to grow louder and louder. _Too much noise, too much noise!_

Suddenly an undiscerning calm fell upon the room.

"You would not have stayed if you had not wanted to hear such things."

He bit sharply down on his tongue, in futile attempt to prevent the reel of insults in his mouth from fleeing. This task then had become exceedingly harder as he felt her eyes slowly scrutinize his person.

His posture was stiffened, his fists were balled, and his muscles were tensed. She acknowledged it all, his stance, his demeanor, his aggravation, but purposely took no heed.

"Thomas, you and I both know it would be an assault to your character if you had not stayed," she began languidly, "but I must ask if it would be too much for you to keep your reserve tonight, for-"

"My reserve?" he abruptly roared, spinning around with the ferocity of a hurricane, "My reserve! Caroline I watched as you spoke lies of my character to father right in front of me. How do you imply I keep my _reserve_ when you say these things?"

Caroline's body language opposed her brother's; she held a serene expression, an open posture, and a gentle tilt of her head. Some outsider acknowledging her collected countenance could hardly fathom she was in a confrontation. They would have assumed this even less had they watched as she distantly ran her hands through the mass of gauze and other makeshift bandages held in her arms. Her natural mystifying nature was enough to incite most people to gawk, but her subtle movements were those which entranced a person.

He was disgusted; did she think she could not distract him like some feeble, manipulable child. Her distinct passivity was then noted with a bitter discord. All she had done or could ever do would only but enrage him more.

She knew well enough to hold her silence while he attacked.

"What do you say about this Caroline?" he probed jarringly, staring disgustedly into his sister's still, unmoving eyes, "Or are you going to act like that stupid, little girl you do while around father and everyone else for that matter?"

Her only reaction to this acerbity was a slight twitch of her lip, which brought forth meager satisfaction to her antagonist. "What I had spoken to him was not a lie," she whispered, while gently folding the billows of cloth in half, "but an unfortunate truth that you have chosen not to come to terms with."

_Lies, lies, lies!_ He lamented from within the confines of his mind.

"How can you speak of me-"

"Never in a hundred," she said, before pausing to correct herself, "Never in a thousand years do you ever doubt my understanding of you Thomas. For you to ever deny such a thing would be but another assurance of my justification."

"You have no such thing," he spat, approaching her tiny form, "Caroline, you stand to manipulate those around you in order to obtain what you want. I could hardly imagine that a person who would do such a thing would have the ground to accuse another of similar acts."

Her nostrils flared lightly as she took in a composing breath. "I stand for no one and _nothing_ but my family and if to do so means I must be both selfish and conniving, then do so I will."

Thomas bit down on his lip and turned his side to her. "That is a pitiless statement."

Caroline continued staring intently at Thomas' profile. He saw in the corners of his eyes that her lips no longer moved to indicate feeling to his malice, but instead acceptance.

Thomas could not even articulate how she aggravated him at that moment; he could literally feel his blood boil beneath his skin. Did she know of this rage she caused him? Was her relentless presence intentional?

Only as she slowly retreated from the room with a motionless expression did he feel his anger dissipate and a sudden moroseness replace it. To speak was useless, they both knew that. For her to come back was useless. He frowned and slowly walked towards the edge of his bed. It was not as though her leave had come upon him as a grievance, but more as a sad reminder of what could never be again.

Thomas took a harsh sigh and clasped the bridge of his nose with his hand as he sat back upon his mattress. _She knows nothing, she is nothing. _Her words would continue to have no affect on his mind if Thomas had anything to say about it. She would learn that by doing so no one would hear, she would be as good as mute!

Thomas grimaced. Then why did he not feel as satisfied when he did such things?

He was about to ponder further on the topic when a thunderous clatter interrupted him. Caroline had returned and was now standing in his doorway, her hands rattling at her sides as their eyes locked. "Then your pity I will go on without," she snapped.

Caroline held her stance there for no more than a second more before she turned and left again.

Silence then had come, followed by the subsequent patter of her feet as she descended the staircase. He made no move to follow her.

* * *

The bitter morning had left the remnants of a resentful night upon the Martin's front porch. The front of their home was now littered with wounded men. Their moans of agony and pleas for sanction from the church echoed throughout the fields.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, illuminating the crops and shedding pale light on the sea of red and blue coats. It was a sight to be seen as enemies were forced to lie next to one another until death or luck saved them from their current suffering, yet all of this depended on their sleep deprived caregivers.

The Martin family had taken on the role of using their house as an infirmary under no promise of money or gratification. They would serve these soldiers until the last man left. The younger children were assigned to supplying the men with rations of food and water, each getting a slice of bread to eat and a cup to drink, while Benjamin, his workers, and Caroline were tending to the soldiers; treating every gash, cut, or brake with the same care as if these men were their own kin. Even stubborn Thomas and naïve Nathan found themselves in service in the wee morning hours with a job most gruesome. The young men were set to laying out the bodies of those who had died before aid was able to come. They did so in hope that these men would be retrieved by a family member, despite the little to no assurance that any of them had that such a grace could occur. The only thing they could depend on to remain constant and unfaltering was the ghastliness of the corpses: no two ever mimicking another one in atrocity.

Though it would seem as though the two boys had the worst of jobs, it could not have been said, by the hollow and washed out looks upon everybody's faces, that each obligation did not come without its necessary strife; be it the labour or tediousness of the duty. Yet it seemed obvious to everyone that there were additional pains varying from the nature of every case.

If it was not the cries of the broken and beaten men begging for the company of their loved one's, being something that none of their nurses knew they could supply, it was the desperate gripping and grasping of the life which would imminently depart from their hosts. Yet as the hours had progressed every one of the Martin's had come to realize that the worst of all afflictions to be proscribed were when someone had begun to acquainting themselves to a soldier.

"Squeeze my hand when I start," she instructed the young man as she motioned towards the bullet hole in his thigh. Caroline's focus then began to wane from the task at hand to the soldier's jacket. It was unbelievable how horribly stained in blood it was; someone could have even mistaken him to be a red coat if it was not for his recognizably blue sleeves.

He began to fidget uncomfortably beneath her penetrating glare, but her will to stop could not be found. _Was that their intention with the coat? _she wondered, with a growing disgust becoming evident in her strained expression. _Men fighting for the liberty of their nation, in death would be clad in the Crown's colour as a sick reminder of the unending loyalty one has to the King._ Caroline scowled at the resolve. Could there be no escape from that terrible shade of crimson?

"Miss?"

The young woman was pulled back to her senses by this croaked inquiry. Her willingness to humour such distractions as meaningless as the colour of his coat were a strike against her better person, as well as this man's diminishing health. "Sorry," she muttered, outstretching her hand to him as she was about to commence.

He speculatively glanced at her extremity, as if he was wondering what to do with it. Caroline thought it upon herself to breech such a gap in communication, so she held it closer to his face in hopes of him accepting it. Yet, to her shock, no more than a second later, he shook his head in decline.

Caroline bit down on her lip and quickly retracted her hand. She could feel the veins in her cheeks flood with blood, causing her face to flush a pink, and her throat tightened suppressing her breathing. This all happened for reasons she could not cognate. Caroline only imagined his lack of accepting came from his discomfort with her presence, but why did she care in the first place how he felt about her? She did not know him and he did not know her, they were complete strangers to one another.

Caroline desperately tried to cover her reddening cheeks and her shamed offence, but each time she tried to convince herself that there were many reasons why he would deny her help she felt doubt crawling up beneath her.

Suddenly his voice chimed through her fretting, "I don't think it would be particularly wise for me to do," he started, followed by a hoarse chuckle, "Dare I break you hand."

Her lips moved to express an alleviated, _"Oh",_ but instead a genuine amusement, something rare of affect, consumed her and released a long needed laugh. "Then I suppose it would be best for you to hold the railing then, I may just need my left hand someday."

"You probably will," he wheezed as a pained, crooked smile decorated his handsome face, "Or else I'll probably have to be the one to help you."

Whilst typing a rope around his upper thigh, Caroline hid her grin and exclaimed, "Oh heaven forbid!"

"You should know," he began only to be interrupted by his own coughing, "That I could be a very capable nurse if wholly necessary."

She smirked delightedly and reached for her pair of forceps. "Brace yourself," she warned as she commenced use of the instrument.

The man initially writhed under her touch, but with pain came acceptance. If he moved too much he posed the threat of hurting himself and her. It was a simple ultimatum that always worked in favour of both parties involved.

After a few moments the tip of the instrument struck metal. Caroline looked up to see the man's face condense in pain. Carefully she clasped the small leaden bullet. His suffering, which caused her heart to ache, urged her to be brisk as she removed the object from his flesh.

In one sharp, swift movement she thrust her arm backwards, having the musket ball exit his skin with as much ease as it had entered. Her quickness had left little room for a yelp, so when all was said and done the bore in his skin was the only thing to remind them both of the procedure that had just occurred.

"Do you fancy a souvenir?" she inquired holding the bloody musket ball up to him.

He made a gesture of uncertain, agreeability before he spoke, "I could not see how it could hurt."

Caroline took the object between her first three fingers and rubbed its surface upon the skirt of her gown. There was no apprehension in soiling the fabric for it was already dyed red with the blood of the injured men and strips of its cloth had already been torn and used as bandaging.

She was proud of herself as she gazed upon her mockery of a skirt. Every drop of blood and tear in its material were proof of her family's goodness, it was even proof of her own. She felt this way because they had been willing to aid all who had stumbled onto their porch that night and it was then as those few first few men were cared for that she had felt every one of her prior prejudices being destroyed.

_Despite being clad in an opposing colour, these red coated soldiers were men too. _

After a few more swipes across her dress she held the gray ball up to the sun. The ruddy liquid that had encased the object now seemed to give it an eerie sheen. The thought made her wince, so with that notion in her head she quickly placed it into her patient's rough and dirty hands, "Here you are."

"Thank you," he replied, glancing up at her, "It'll be a great reminder."

Caroline's stomach suddenly began to twist. _Reminder of what?_ The look in his eyes was so alien to her for she had never been looked upon in such a strange way. She tried to dissect what it meant, but this resulted in her becoming even more confounded as she came up with loose ends of differing emotions. Awe. Hesitancy. Fear! Contentment? _For how could all these feelings exist in one stare?_

Caroline sucked in on her bottom lip. There was, for the first time, nothing she could make of it. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment more, looking on at him in a concoction of shame, defeat, and embarrassment. Abruptly she then dropped her path of sight to the floor.

There was no possibility she could dwell on such things for there were many other men that needed her assistance. It would have been selfish for her to only relay her time to one man only.

"One moment, please," she pleaded as she got to her knees in search of her sewing needle.

Caroline was convinced she had set it next to her, but in the chaos of that sunrise she suspected it must have been brushed away. Yet, as she tried to focus on her search, she could not help but think back to her patient.

Enveloped in self disappointment as she scowered the floor with her hand Caroline concurred that she felt nothing but the discernable eyes of the damaged soldiers around her pleading for medical attention. Their eyes stung her skin like their wounds stung theirs, but she knew that she would have to ignore them if she wanted to remain concentrated.

"Caroline, what are you doing?"

Nervously she looked up to see Gabriel towering above her with a puzzled look upon his face. His skin had regained some of its prior colour and his eyes gleamed with a light that she had not seen in him since he left to join the army in Charles Towne.

A smile began to form on her face, but as she moved her lips to respond to his query a soft glint of silver caught her eye.

Gabriel stared awedly at his sister as she dropped suddenly to her hands. He speculated that it could not have taken her anymore than an instant to snatch at the object of her desire and get to her feet, wielding the metal utensil to him, "I was looking for my needle."

Gabriel smirked and softly exclaimed, "Of course."

He did not understand her absurd behavior, he never had and doubted he ever would, but he knew if he gave her the time necessary one day he could possibly comprehend the slightest of what went on inside her head.

When he looked upon her face she had a grin stretching from ear to ear. This expression of happiness was of result of the optimism Caroline had that convinced her he would choose to stay with the family, instead of returning to war. When he would choose to do so she expected all to go back to what it had been before this horrible conflict had begun.

Caroline was then about to comment on her eldest brother's healthy countenance when a sudden urge willed her to retreat back towards the soldier she was treating. Her muscles had already begun action when she first considered fighting this impulse, but right as the thought came to mind so did a disconcerting acceptance which forced her to do otherwise.

Her subconscious, which hurried Caroline's feet across the length of the porch, ruled without words or actions, yet it imposed on her mind like a king. She was still in control, for the most part, but all the actions she chose to commit would be of direct result of an unknown motive within her, which then abruptly forced Caroline's eyes to dart away from their original path.

It was quickly understood why she had felt so strongly as she beheld the strange rustling of the forest around the length of their property. The disturbance, it seemed, stretched too far and had too great of an affect for it to be a passing animal. This assumption was further confirmed as, in the far distance, she watched as masses of birds exploded from the treetops, as though from cannons, and then dissipated into the soft gray sky.

Caroline stopped in mid step and pivoted her foot to look back to where her brother had stood. There he still remained, her father adjacent to him treating a broken limb. _Had they not seen it?_ No one had it seemed, all of them were still immersed with their tasks.

Such a spectacle as that which had occurred seemed illogical to even think someone was capable of ignoring, but as she looked upon the agonized faces of the men on either side of her she conceded, _Pain does tend to take precedence over observance. _Caroline begun to feel a lack of ease with this conclusion, but, because of a stubbornness of character, she refused to be ruled by whims.

She paced further away only to have her gut knot. Her sensibility begged her to turn back around and tell the others, but with time in great importance her decision had to brief. Caroline considered it for a moment only to then bravely decline such a plight. _The clock stops for no one._ The will in her to agree to such, though contrary to her usual disposition, came from the young man waiting on her to finish her dealings. She would not risk people's lives to indulge thoughtless notions.

As she came to the edge of her patient's feet a leering feeling in the back of her mind bemoaned, even louder than before, to her that she had not made the right decision. She was about to pause and listen to its further words, but common sense knocked such mindless reasonings out of her head. The positive possibilities obviously would outweigh the negative. _The worst thing,_ she supposed, _could be that another bout of partially lifeless soldiers are coming needing immediate help. _

Caroline tried to form a half smile, but this resolution continued to make her feel as though she was not in the right. _You should listen to yourself, _she encouraged, only to have her statement fall upon covered ears.

_Time, time, tim_e, she reminded herself. _Too little time I have._

Sharply she kneeled back down, her skirts encircled around her. "Found it," she announced, rubbing the needle with a piece of clean cloth. "This may hurt ag-"

"I never got your name," he interrupted, with a hopeful shimmer in his eyes.

The young lady pursed her lips tautly. It was hard for her to register why she felt so dubious right then, but she proceeded on cautiously with her reply, while threading a string of cotton sinew through her needle, "My name is Caroline."

He smiled and settled the crown of his head in between the rungs of the railing. Then, while continually facing her, he spoke, "That's a lovely name."

"Thank you," she responded curtly and then out of good manner asked, "and yours?"

In her speech it was quite apparent her mindful way of avoiding too personal of conversation with him. It could be presumed that her lack of willingness to _understand_ this man further came from her, rather, _lack_ of understanding in his gaze.

"It's Jonathan, Jonathan Bennett," he stated, while she quickly dabbed his wound clean.

"Nice to meet you, now hold the railing again," she commanded as she made the first stitch.

The piece of rope, which she had tied around his upper thigh, had proved itself useful in limiting the pain with the circulation to his left leg cut off. It then had taken her five stitches to close the gash, but after observing her work she weighed if it would serve him better to have one more.

Time's strong, able hands then abruptly knocked her on the back of the head. She could not be spending so many minutes with one man when there were at least a dozen more that could need her help at a moments notice!

With a confusing reluctance she bit down on the tendril that shut the flaw in his flesh and rapidly tied a knot. Then with an indescribable remorse she announced, "You are just about done."

Caroline's twisted her torso to reach for a wrap of gauze, half of her felt as though she did not want to turn back, while half pleaded for her to do so. She could not bring herself to explain what feelings were pulling at her insides when she thought of this man named Jonathan. She had never felt this _odd_ before.

Despite her greatest aversion she turned back around, only now she was facing an army of red.

It seemed as though they had all emerged from the forest in pencil straight lines marching forwards. With bulging eyes Caroline watched as these soldiers walked over dead men's bodies with as much disregard as if they were dirt beneath them. The sickening crack and squish as result of such careless actions could be heard among the sound of their marching, but this was the least of her family's worries as the distinct sound of hooves thundered in the distance.

Her neck abruptly angled her head about to face her father who had finally taken notice of the approaching threat, while Gabriel uncomfortably leaned against a wooden column trying to mask his face. Caroline withdrew her sight to share a painstaking stare with Jonathan as a Lieutenant, discernable by his ornamentation, from the British brigade ascended their front steps. Behind him came another bout of men who invaded their porch in search of their brethren, passing Gabriel in their path.

Regret began to tear at Caroline as she watched the Lieutenant nearing her Father. _Oh please let his intent be benign, _she prayed as the man extended his hand, "Thank you for the care of his Majesty's soldiers."

Ben nodded graciously; a faint smile pinching his face while he watched the young man speaking with him gawk at his disheveled state. There was then an uncomfortable pause as the Lieutenant retracted his arm, sending a fleeting glance towards Gabriel. This form of interaction with an enemy soldier caused her brother visible discomfort, which the man took quick note of.

_If I had only warned them of what I had seen they would not have this fear hanging above their necks!_

The Lieutenant examined her brother as he walked pass, causing Gabriel to freeze in place, but after he deemed this to be an insufficient reaction he continued on by. Caroline watched as Gabriel's body composed as he let out a sigh of relief. She followed in this expression of ease and continued wrapping Jonathan's leg.

All seemed to be going well as the injured red coats were loaded upon carts while the British servicemen awaited instruction from their informant. This calm was then shattered as the nearing cavalry came into visual range of the house.

Jonathan having then noticed this began to toil, but, unlike most things that he did, Caroline understood his reason for distress. In Gabriel's brief spurts of consciousness the night before he had explained vaguely of who had killed and injured the majority of his fellow men during the battle. She could not even begin to imagine what fear the thought of the cavalry approaching had for the continental soldiers.

Caroline formed a smile and rested a reassuring hand upon Jonathan's shoulder, grasping his attention, "It'll be fine, we've aided their men too, they can do nothing to you harm you nor anybody else. We are neutral to them."

The young man tried to seem as though he took comfort from her words, but his expression betrayed him as it resembled a fear that would be on one's face while the muzzle of a pistol was pressed against their skull. For her sake though he made an attempt to settle his nerves as she finished bandaging him.

Caroline's eyes flickered from Jonathan's legs to the nearing soldiers as she secured the last piece of cloth. Her stomach churned as she observed the alarming rates in which the horses' legs moved. Their riders atop them seemed as though they felt no impact to the velocity of the wind which fought against them as they rode. Their indifference made them seem impervious to the simple throes of common people, it made them seem powerful.

_If any of the Continental soldiers had plans to run,_ she thought darkly, _they'd have little chance of escaping unharmed._

This weighed heavily on her mind. The Patriot cause could loose no more men for such frivolous reasons. Briefly she looked around at the soldiers and prayed that there was no one amongst them ignorant enough to attempt such a feat as defying a British Officer.

The columns of horses then came to a sharp stop, rousing her from concern, while a man of clear importance rode a few steps forward. He was dressed in a dapper red and green jacket and a black helmet with a strip of fur atop. He instantly motioned for the quaint Lieutenant from the British Army that had thanked her father.

With the purposeful weighing essence of time upon his minor, the young man's steps were hurried to meet his leader's expectations.

"Lieutenant, have reattachment take our wounded to our surgeons in Winnsboro," ordered the ominous informant with a subtle flinch of his hand towards the carts laid out in front of him.

"Yes sir," the man replied with a bow before quickly scurrying away to inform the others of what the Officer had told them to do.

Caroline spent the time curiously peering through the rungs to observe the face of the man who had struck fear in the eyes of all of his beholders. His disposition was aloof, his bantering cocky, but the worst she thought he could be was a thorn in ones side. Caroline smirked and focused her attention back where it was due, it was upon her now to keep such judgments of character seldom between herself.

"Come now, I'll help you out of here," she said as she slipped her arm underneath Jonathan's and lifted him to his feet. She did this despite him towering over her by _at least_ a head. Right as she got them both prepared for the walk Gabriel and her father caught her eye. Anxiety inhibited their stares. She would have stopped and inquired why if it was not for the fact she had already begun helping the soldier limp his way across the deck.

Unbeknownst to Caroline, but the Colonel had taken notice of her and watched curiously as she took no note to his presence, something which he had never encountered before. Was his horse not imposing, was his cavalry not intimidating? The man could only begin to wonder, _What could possibly possess this girl to do so_? If his presence did not instill fear in her, his words would.

"Fire the house and the barn," he declared bluntly to all of those around him. His men gave him puzzled looks as they hesitated to make any further movement. "Let it be known if you harbor the enemy you will lose your home."

Caroline's head shoot up to stare at him with big, round hazel eyes. _What could possibly possess this man to do so?_

Upon hearing this Benjamin began calling his remaining children out from the house. They all rushed from the door in mild hysteria. The man atop the horse held a satisfactory smirk as he watched Caroline and her siblings faces contort at his command, but what he did not know at the time was that this outraged girl, who had been unphased by his presence, was to become a dangerously observant adversary.

It was almost immediate that she had realized that he was trying to gain an emotional response from her. _So this is what he stands to gain, _she inferred, biting down on her lip to suppress any further expression of emotion. Caroline then coolly directed her attention to Jonathan_._

"Who is that man," she whispered as they continued down the porch.

Jonathan hesitated to speak, but felt obliged to tell her what she inquired, "That is Colonel William Tavington, Miss."

She nodded understandably and assisted him through the crowd of British Regulars undauntedly. The Colonel took but another glance at her as she did this. He had already become fed up with her indifference and directed his attention to the workers of their land, but his subconscious knew that he could not ignore the aggravation which this young female's lack of feeling had elicited. "By standing order of his Majesty King George, all slaves of the American colonies who fight for the crown will be granted their freedom with victory."

A young man whom Caroline had come to know as John stepped forward to defend his friends and family. "Sir," he said while mannerly taking off his straw hat, "We're not slaves, we work this land, we're freed men."

The Colonel scoffed at this statement.

_Did he not think it possible for a man of differing colour to have such a freedom?_ Caroline pondered with an increasing disgust.

"Then as freed men, you will have the opportunity and privilege to fight for his King's army, won't you?" he asserted with a gratified grin.

John and the other workers looked up at Ben with grief stricken faces as they searched out for his support, but he knew he could do nothing for them when he could not even do something for himself.

The Colonel, having seen this final desperate plea for help, made a poor attempt at muffling his contentment. It seemed as though this man was able to find hilarity in the most painful of situations.

Caroline began to scowl, but right as she did so she saw the Colonel out of the corner of his eye look back at her. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her reaction so she quickly changed her response and started down the stairs, only to be pulled back by Gabriel.

"Caroline, stop," he growled holding firmly onto her arm.

Her head shot back to glare at him, but his eyes had since wandered past her and to the leader of this destruction.

The Lieutenant from before was now passing a bundle of papers to the Colonel, the package was discernable as the dispatches given to Gabriel. Everyone aware of whom the documents belonged to noticed this and marked it with a stark terror as the man harshly tore off the strings binding it and read its contents.

"Who carried this," he demanded to the soldier standing beneath him, but the man could produce no response. The Colonel's lips contracted, his eyes aflame with an anger so potent one's skin could burn from one glance. "Who carried this?" he repeated out towards the cowardice civilians. His tone was now far more menacing and louder than before.

Eyes travelled back and forth as the frightened people searched for a sufficient response in their neighbours, but after several seconds of unavailing seeking a final silence met the Colonel's demand. Not even the birds, which had since perched back in their trees, dared chirping in reply, fearing the malice he could inflict upon them.

"I did sir."

Caroline's head snapped to the side.

"Gabriel," she exclaimed, but her shock was so debilitating it turned her words to a whisper. Her brother did not acknowledge her nor and other member of her family as they condemned his bravery with passing words and scornful eyes.

_How does Gabriel think he will benefit from this? _Caroline, mystified and baffled, wondered.

"I was wounded and these people gave me care. They have _nothing_ to do with these dispatches," he declared, sealing his fate.

The self righteous smirk upon the Colonel's face was offending enough to turn ones stomach as they all watched in horror as English men were waved forward to seize their brother.

_Fight, run, escape! _Caroline on impulse thought, ignoring the fact she had concluded that such rash actions were hopeless ventures for those seeking an untimely death. Much to her luck Gabriel, wise in his choices, made no such efforts as they neared him.

In the lapsing seconds of time to come it seemed to pass in stills. Gabriel panned his hand back to grabs for Caroline's reassuringly. She cradled his large, rough hand in hers. An understanding washed over her face. She was finally able to comprehend why gestures like these brought such little comfort. _They never last. _

The instant this revelation had been made two soldiers in red tore Gabriel's gentle clasp from hers. His soft brown eyes shook her to the core as the men dragged him away. The will in Caroline to protest such measures was alive and burning, but the common sense, which she had lacked greatly earlier that day, had told her to do otherwise. _Hide you anger, mask an understanding, and keep your reserve._

Defiance to order was instinctual, but after a moment of deep thought she was able to calm such primal impulses. There were others in her grasp which needed her protection. Her eyes scanned side to side from her father, to siblings, to the young man whom still faithfully stood to her side. These people were her greatest importance right then.

"Take this one to Camden," instructed the devil of a man from atop his horse, "He's a spy, hang him, his body on display."

The nonchalant manner in which the command left his mouth caused everyone's face to condense in repulsion, For the sentient few who had ever questioned their faith in humanity or the goodness of people saw this as the final nail in the coffin of such a lost state of being. For The Martin's this had become their waking nightmare.

Suddenly her father surged forward past his family. "He's a dispatch rider and that's a marked case," he conveyed, with a fluctuating tone, as he neared the man who was causing him all of this woe.

The Colonel, undeterred by Benjamin's presence, continued with his commands, "Destroy the livestock, save the horses for the Dragoons!"

Ben was far too determined to save his son's life than to have such phrases affect him or to mind the Commander's deliberate indignance. "This is a uniformed dispatch rider, carrying a marked case. He cannot be held as a spy."

Their father's desperate attempts had roused the Colonel to attention. "Were not going to _hold_him," he corrected, his amusement evident in his mocking intonation, teasing smile, and sharply serrating blue eyes, "Were going to _hang_ him."

A cognitive gasp escaped the mouths of all of those involved. His reasoning lacked foundation and his priorities were not those of a proper English Officer. _Take a man's home and you leave him his family. Take a man's family and you leave him nothing. _Caroline believed his inclinations were irrational, they were undeserved, and above all they were inhuman!

"Colonel," Benjamin protested.

"Father," Gabriel hissed above him. He had wished for this exclamation to only fall upon Benjamin's ears, but no such kindness as that did fate have to give him.

A surprised, almost, contented little expression endowed the Colonel's lips upon hearing this. He then declared loudly, "Oh I see, he's your son."

Benjamin could not deny something that was so blatantly obvious, all he could do was try to mend what had been proclaimed, but as he tried to reason with him again the Colonel had begun to speak.

"Perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty," he jabbed, remarking their father's parenting skills and his children's behavior with a rueful expression.

Most people in the immediate area remained too fixated on the terror of the situation to process the words being thrown about. Some soldiers looked on in shame and pity for the family, while a large majority continued on with their duties unmoved and unphased by the pain, the tears, and the sorrows which could be seen in the eyes of the children and the desperation in Benjamin's.

_Have you men no hearts?_ Caroline felt like shouting. Their response would have been a gratification known but to her alone. Yet such could not be obtained while her mind stayed absorbed with the chaos ensuing, rendering her unable to formulate such a phrase. Only when the sound of gun fire rung in her ears and the blood curdling screams of men rattled through her body did she realize the flaw in her reasoning. _These are not men, these are savages. _

"Please, Colonel, I beg you to reconsider," Benjamin pleaded, "By the rules of war-"

"The rules of war!" snapped the Colonel over Benjamin, "Would you like a lesson, sir, in the rules of war?" he pressed, retrieving his pistol from its holster and pointing it towards their father's head.

The children's panicked cries filled the air, tears stinging their bloodshot eyes. Small William buried his tiny head in Caroline's tattered and stained skirts, shielding his eyes from the sight of his father's death.

This threat to her family induced Caroline to reveal her maternal tendencies. With her free arm she pulled her brother closer, while involuntarily taking a step in front of her other siblings. Even then she remained loyal to her patient and supported him with her other arm. The fierce characteristics to her eyes were warning enough to the opposing men around of her determination. If they even dared to have the inclination to hurt her family they would have hell to pay.

The Colonel, who by nature would have been delighted to elicit such wild reactions from someone, vacillated over whether to pull back upon the trigger. Was it despair or enmity that he wished to receive from his victims?

A sinful grin was upon his face as he twisted his torso to aim his gun at the children. With her anger came too many liabilities, but she would not be able to present herself as a hazard if she was the one whom the bullet threatened. "Perhaps your children would?" he declared, fixating his aim upon the defiant young woman's face.

The muffled screeches of innocents chilled to the bone the few people descent of heart left, while indulging the insatiable gullet of the others. The Colonel's satisfaction could not be fully obtained because Caroline remained unmoved by his attempts.

The young Martin's had instantly fled towards their eldest of kin, Thomas and Caroline, while their father stepped back in front of his family, arms spread wide. Two of their protectors shared a moments glance, their still eyes meeting for what felt like an eternity, before Thomas sharply adverted his stare. _During this horror, _Caroline thought achingly, _he still felt obliged to hold this grudge. _A pity of sorts consumed her, amoung other emotions, but promptly arrested its hold as the events progressed.

"No lesson is necessary," Benjamin assured.

The Colonel was not enthralled with the reception, or rather lack there was, of his pistol, but was still a man to believe in the basic necessity of dissolution before infliction. He could not shoot someone off of shear whim, but must have reason to warrant such punishment. So with malcontent he slowly retracted his pistol.

Dissatisfaction was upon both sides of the conflict as the broken family watched as their livelihood was burned, trampled, shot, and soiled by a foreign invaders force.

"Father, do something," Thomas urged as he looked on with tearing eyes as men bound Gabriel's arms.

"If there was only something that one could do-" Suddenly a blow to the back knocked Caroline off her feet and to the ground, cutting short her sentence. The coarse composition of ground chafed her delicate skin and stung her eyes, but even with blurred vision she could ascertain the reason for this sudden violence.

Being dragged by his heels by two British soldiers was Jonathan. Their intention became quite clear when they threw his limp person to the ground. The fight in him to live was vacant from his unseeing eyes, as the men cocked their muskets and aimed. Jonathan made no struggle.

Impulse spoke to Caroline to act, but Benjamin pulled her back from such idiotic actions as he sprung to her side. She shouted the young soldier's name, but he heard no such thing as far louder noises muted her words.

The bodies of all of the men they had aided from the Continental Army now lay sprawled around their property. All bereft of a pulse or the recognition of their efforts. This was the greatest degradation of a soldier that one could subject.

Thousands of indescribable emotions ran through Caroline, but she did not have the capability to express them while her father attempted to secure her stance with his hand. As she rose the sudden stamp of hurried feet distracted her from her intent.

"Thomas no," they all bellowed as the second eldest son from their family ran forward towards his impending doom.

"Run Gabriel!" the young man screamed as he fought against the men holding his brother.

Caroline's head shot up to face the Colonel; their eyes locked for that second. She was far too aware of his intentions and he hated his predictability to her. While everyone stared at the brawling boy, she stared at him.

Caroline then abruptly detached their exchange and turned towards Thomas in a mad dash to save her brother's life. "Thomas," she shrieked.

The Colonel, then with a reason, was all too willing to exert the force of his gun. The moment he had done so the all too familiar noised deafened Caroline's delicate ears. Haste had blinded her to the simple and painful fact that she could have never beaten a bullet.

"Thomas!" her father lamented, running forward and catching his son's falling body in his arms. The young children followed after their father to their dying brother's side, their wailing piercing the ears of all around.

Caroline was too shocked to move, let alone fully process what had occurred. She was supposed to save him; she was supposed to protect her family. _This was not supposed to happen._ Rigidly she followed her brothers and sisters, her limbs remaining stiff and almost unmoving. She did not want see him. She did not want to breathe in. She simply did not want to be. Caroline had recalled that she had once stood by the saying that you will never be given more than you can handle, but her faith in this precept had begun to diminish as a horrible malady began to plague her heart.

"Thomas," she cooed as she fell to her knees next to her brother. The blood from the wound on his back was creeping up their father's shirt, spreading as it created an ugly stain; one which could not be washed out.

His ashen face turned in response to his sister. His blue eyes had lost their gleam, his skin had already lost its colour. "Thomas," she said again reaching for his hand. His flesh had lost its heat.

Caroline, with horrified eyes, looked up to the man who had done this.

The Colonel completed the interchange by glowering down upon her with distaste. How could he have ever believed that this insolent girl could have that ability to fight his will. No one could; she was no exception, but he could not help but feel a wavering lack of assurance to his justification which began to sicken him.

"Thomas?" she whimpered while delicately prodding at his face. The pale boy made no response to her touch. "Thomas?"

Caroline's heart fluttered in her chest and an immense pain began to beat against her skull. "Thomas," she said hysterically, pushing his shoulder with an increased amount of force. "Thomas. Thomas!"

Her brother's eyes looked past her now, past their homestead, and past the immediate world around them.

Caroline reached to shake her brother again with welling eyes but her father pushed her arm away, "Caroline," he snapped.

Her lips quivered and quaked as she tried to wrack her head around what was happening. "No," she protested coiling her tiny hands around Thomas' arm, "No."

The Colonel grimaced. She was exactly like the rest of them.

The Dragoon leader then agitatedly waved his hand up to signal to his men their leave from this strife, leaving the rest of the dealings in the hands of the British Regulars. For him to have stayed would have been a measure of his patience unheard of by those who knew him.

The cavalry then departed, row by row. Some of the men looked back at what they had witnessed in disbelief, some of them looked back in self justification, while some did not look back at all.

The Colonel was amoung these men who could not bring themselves to give the scene a second glance. By doing so he could feel his dissatisfaction with this small triumph grow. It was she who had taken his pleasure away from him; the reason he felt partial to himself. Her pensive, expectant glare was fuel to the constant lingering reminder of his own weakness'.

"Sir?"

The colonel's head shot to his right, "What?" he snapped.

His second in command, Captain Borden, shrunk in size upon hearing his irritation. The Captain, during his years of service, had become quite aware of the Colonel's volatile nature and in more than one instance had he been subject to it. "The men would like to know where we are going."

His aggravation had already been spent upon the small, young woman, so his only expression of frustration left for his men's incompetence was a hearty sigh, "When I said Winnsboro I thought it was blatant enough to realize I implied we were all going there."

Borden's small lips pursed and he muttered, "Sorry sir."

The muscles in the Colonel's face tightened and his voice tensed, "Then show to me your regret and fix your blunder by informing the others."

As his minor faithfully listened to his instructions the Colonel found himself giving into temptation and looking back over his shoulder at the destruction which he had caused.

The black smoke that came off the burning building in long and winding streams were of result of his actions. The horrible lamenting of a tormented family which had lost their son was of result of his actions. His regret for his _lack_ of regret was of result of his actions.

**Thank you so much for reading I hope it was worth the wait. I'd love to hear what you thought. Happy Holidays. **


	8. I Stand

**It has been far too long, yet with reason. My computer, as some may now, despises me with every circuit and microchip in its outdated hard drive. It had then chosen to stop functioning, leaving me unable to access and of my files what-so-ever. Thank god for family friends in the computer business who have seemingly miraculous abilities to revive computers. There should be no fear of this happening in the future now. Anyway, I want to thank Music24601, Madness is me, EvanescentBeauty, and kirtendude1, all whom reviewed on the last chapter. Also thank you to all of you who read, favourite-d, and alerted. Also, to answer a question asked, Caroline is just a character that I decided to throw into the story. You know, mix it up a bit :) **

**_Chapter Song(s)_**

**_Mumford and Sons-Dust Bowl Dance_**

**_Alela Diane-The Rifle_**

**_(All rights belong to their respected authors. All that is mine is my character and overlaping plot.)_**

Chapter Eight-I Stand

The clatter of hooves and the cragged speech of exasperated men had eventually faded in the distance, unlike the stains which their presences had left on those whom they had tortured. When the red coated soldiers had left the flames which they had ignited to engulf the Martin home did not extinguish, and Gabriel whom they had seized to hang did not return to his family's loving arms, and Thomas whom they stole his very essence from still remained too far, too unreachable for his kin to even wish to grasp at.

This ugly stain, which had unwillingly been thrust upon its hosts, would abide _permanently_ on the skins and eyes of those affected, no matter what means of cleansing were utilized to try to diminish its imposing red colour.

Tiny hands pawed at their young brother's corpse like dogs begging for a better circumstance, but their efforts were useless. No mortal hands could wash away the blood which soiled innocent flesh. This was an undeserved fate, one which could have only been prevented by human choice. This was, despite desperate pleading, a decision which had not been theirs.

"_He was right!" _Caroline wheezed, balling her fists in front of her aching eyes, "You are such a stupid, stupid boy."

The terrible crying, which had been what had deterred their belligerents in the end, was that which overtook one another's ability to react, let alone think. So despite the young woman's rather brusque comment at that fragile time, no soul made any indication that they were going to correct it. Everyone was to deal with this pain in their own way, unguided and unhindered. This was the only way that any of them could ever hope for their wounds to heal.

Suddenly a weight fell upon Caroline's lap. She was abrupt to pull her hands from her eyes to acknowledge what was placed there, but had forthwith wished dearly she had not. The trembling girl took in a small, near inaudible gasp as she observed her brother's face as it now rested atop her thighs, neck angled unnaturally to one side.

Shocked and confused Caroline had looked up at her Father with a start, but his blue eyes were already there to bare down on her; to admonish words that she had yet to have even spoken.

His daughter, having known him far too long and well, would have been able to have seen his intentions from a mile away if she had noticed that foreboding silver flash crossing his irises sooner.

"All of you stay here," he declared as he rose from his knees.

"No Father," she protested, reaching for whatever loose articles of clothing on him that she could have pulled upon to reel him back towards her.

"No," he snapped as he jumped from her grasp, his eyes becoming possessed with a near unfathomable craze.

The family's rather still tableau had become disturbed, stirring up another wave of panic in the members of this all-too-real portrayal of loss, anguish, and desperation.

Caroline retracted her arm and rested it upon Thomas' chest. A crestfallen expression had started to furrow the skin between her brows as she stared down upon her hand. The low hanging, hazy smoke, which her father then ran into, had begun encircle around her and her siblings, filling their lungs with its soot. Yet she welcomed it and the dry, throbbing pain the filth in the air had to bestow when all else she could feel was the cold, unbeating heart of her brother. She found solace in the fact that in the grasp of this torment that, in the very least, her sorrow had a pulse.

The other children coughed and moaned, leaning into one another as their weak knees gave into their burdens. Susan had clung to Margaret; Samuel had slumped into Nathan's shoulder, while William had stood alone; tears swelling in his bright blue eyes.

"No, father, no," he whimpered into the flashing blaze.

Caroline looked back from the distraught little one to Thomas. "What has happened?" she mumbled, cupping the dead boy's pale cheek in her hand. He made no snap of retaliation as he usually had when being procured by her, but instead stared blindly beyond their immediate surroundings. As her lips had begun to quiver Caroline, knowing she could take no more, let his head carefully roll off her legs and meet the dirt. A sob had then begun to quaver up through her chest, but she was there to suppress it firmly with her free hand as it had tried to make an exit from her mouth.

_When everything around us is falling, I must be that which stands, _Caroline promised to herself and her remaining family. From then on in she would blatantly refuse common sense's cautious instructions if she should ever be in the face of another situation where their lives are crumbling from around them and, in doing so, she would be the brace which tries to support the faltering walls of their well being, even it if was to be a task destitute to failure.

After taking a moment to compose herself, with this vow still ringing in her head, she turned towards her siblings and reached out for the smallest boy. Upon touch he had begun to shake uncontrollably as his crying had piqued.

"Calm, William, calm. He will come, he will come," she cooed, pulling the petite boy in her arms.

"Father, come back, come back!" he wailed, his tears soaking through the thick linen fabric of her stomacher.

"Shh, William, shh," she crooned running her fingers through his thin brown hair.

While the other children sought consolation in those adjacent to them, Caroline was coming to the stark conclusion as to where her place was in amoungst this dismay. Her only function was to be the one to repress tears, not feed them. She would have to be careful with her words, but in doing so she could not relent her honesty. It would be a fault if she was to assure William, or any other child, of their safety for _in truth_ there was no certainty of it. Lastly, for her to elicit the use of the phrase, "It will be fine," would be another strike against her family. They were most definitely not fine in that moment and the near future shone no brighter light to indicate otherwise. So with this legion of hindrances working in opposition to her it had become increasingly apparent that that only thing that she could justly convince them of was her constant, unfaltering presence.

"I'm still here Will, I'm always here."

The little boy nuzzled deeper into her embrace, muffling out infantine mewls as he burrowed closer and closer towards his sister's steadily beating heart. The dull rhythm in her chest sung to his ears as validation to her promise. _She will always be here. _

While they all waited for their father to reemerge from the flames Caroline found that for but brief moments, while cradling little William against her breast, that her eyes had wandered past his tiny shoulder and to the torturous sight mere feet away. Her brother Thomas still had not moved. His body had continued lying in the exact position as she had left it mere seconds ago.

It was not as if she had expected for him to have sat up with a beaming expression upon his face assuring them all of his good health, but instead had anticipated him to have had a reaction of the slightest form to all that was occurring around him. Why was it that he could not feel the tears which sliced at their cheeks, and the laments which tore apart their throats, and the horrible constriction of despair upon their hearts? Once more he had managed to infuriate her, as he had when he was living, with his indifference. Could they not as well be so blissfully detached from the present? Yet as she gazed further upon the colourless boy she began to cognate the selfishness in her statement.

This temporary separation from life which she craved was in reality a permanent divide; a wall which neither the living nor dead could permeate once having crossed to the farther side. She could not fault Thomas for the distance which he then held, for she knew he had made no definitive choice when he had attempted to save their brother Gabriel from the gallows to die; it have been in the hands of another to determine his fate then. The lifeless stare and pallid complexion which he then adorned was a maquillage which no person, healthy of mind, would ever willingly put upon themselves or another.

Caroline's eyes then lazily drifted to the imprints of hooves in the dirt around her, her own discourse still resonating in her head. The thunder of horses echoed in her head, forcing the very syllables of the words which she had thought to lose their validity with each thump.

This code of conduct which she had once believed all human beings must uphold to had seemed to have been ignored by those whom obtained the tenacity to separate themselves from the moral expectancies of the greater majority. A heat grew in Caroline's stomach as the coals of her anger simmered with each passing pondering of the damnable characteristics of a man who was openly willing to defy all laws of integrity. Yet as William once more rattled with tears beneath her arms she felt the embers in her gut ignite into a roaring flame, consuming every sane thought in her head. The gentle girl had then become something of her worst of nightmares; an incredulous and unforgiving creature.

_Why is it that the innocent must suffer, while the guilty jaunt off?_ The man who had caused all of this pain had walked away unscathed from this fateful interaction, leaving the rest of them to endure the chaos of what one simple gesture of his finger had to ensue. _Was his first intention to tear apart a family or was that just an appended result? Was he at all conscious to the consequences of the act? Does he feel guilt for what he has done? _

The questions buzzed around her head, wakening a horrible humming noise as they stated what they intended to receive. Caroline wished that she could have been able to silence them, but these were inquiries that she knew could not be answered by mere speculation. Yet despite the retched noises which deafened her she managed to wistfully implore to the great expanse of the universe whether pension would ever be paid for Thomas' untimely, unwarranted death.

He had been far too young to have been subject to his form of cruelty. All that had occurred that dark day was exactly what she was trying to shelter him from. Caroline's body had then begun to shake as she broke the surface of her own perception of the form of retribution that could be due for the executer of such wanton acts of malice.

It was not in Caroline's nature to lower herself to such levels of barbarity when thinking of penalizing a man having crossed her so foully. Yet with naught but Thomas' vessel remaining, which compared to the utmost value of all that had been taken from him, Caroline had been brought unwillingly to the stoop of her own realization. There could be no greater forms of amends that could ever be made for something as invaluable as a brother.

The man's safety from her punishment could only come in one form; A living, breathing, healthy fifteen year old boy. Caroline believed in circumstance and would smile upon the day when it had found that hideous excuse for an Officer in its sight.

Caroline's eyes halted back upon Thomas. Something would be done to make up for this, be it by the hands of fate or by her own. She would remain standing for her family no matter how hard it had and would become, but she would never overlook the revenge that would be rightly hunted for in the name of her brother.

"Father!" Margaret suddenly exclaimed stopping short of rushing up the steps as the faint outline of the man they had been waiting for discerned itself.

Their heads all shot up to watch as their father forged his way forward through the dark veils of smoke, while flames of orange, red, and yellow licked at the white walls to the side of him. An unspoken valor of character willed him to ignore the sting of the fire's tongue on his skin and its emanating heat which seared his surface. Even the elements, it seemed to his children, dared not trifle with a man that had as great of a determination as his.

"Nathan, Samuel," he called out, rousing everyone's attention to the weapons which he carried in his arms. The two boys hesitantly stepped forward as their father secured two muskets in their rattling hands. At first the boys did not willingly accept the firearms, fearing what dark gifts the guns intended to impart, but after a short, wordless exchange of looks between father and sons the boys began to grasp their armaments with a greater confidence.

Benjamin left them with a curt nod before redirecting his attention to his eldest daughter whom knelt upon the ground encasing his youngest son with her arms. He had bent upon one knee to level himself with her brilliant olive coloured eyes, when a guilt of sorts had began to stir in his stomach. The concern in his daughter's stare, which she had purposefully made no effort to disguise, spoke to him as another transgression against his children and especially Caroline. Yet despite how much he hated feeling so impotent as a parent, he knew he would be damned to endure a further degree of this suffering if he did not at least try to spare his eldest son's life.

"Caroline," he began with a sudden fluidity and patience invading his tone, "I know you can shoot this."

The young woman peered apprehensively at the rifle and the handful of bullets which he then offered to her. _I must be the one to stand, _she reminded herself.

Caroline then rose to her feet with William still holding onto her by the pleats of her skirt. Her father followed her upwards, pursuing her assent to his resolve with his eyes. It was obvious she was not willing to lose her father, but equally unwilling to ignore the urgency of her brother Gabriel's need of aid. She sighed softly and then, with pursed lips and a visible adversity, clasped the barrel of the gun next to her father's large hand. She then with her free palm received the handful of metal orbs, which were then promptly placed into her dress pocket.

"I want you to take Susan, William, and Margaret and hide in the fields. If we're not back by sunset take them to your Aunt Charlotte's," he demanded with a soft charge, before confirming her understanding, "Is that clear?"

Caroline gave a heavy nod. The life seemed drained from her eyes as she whispered a dead, "Yes Father."

Ben did his best to form a half smile, but even as he tried to reassure her with a gentle squeeze to the shoulder she continued to grimace; her large eyes persisting to feverously plead with him to make his boldness of second of importance to his safety.

He understood her fear of the dire consequences that another loss would have on them all. He could only imagine what their lives could be reduced to if such a travesty was ever to occur. Yet notwithstanding it all he knew that he could not concede to all which she sought. His life had no worth to that of his children; hence why, that when he could not give word to his own wellbeing, that he could openly guarantee the safe return of their brother Gabriel.

"Boys," he said, waving them on with his hand.

Benjamin left his daughter with a fleeting glance before turning to run towards the cover of the forest. They would follow close next to the dirt path which Gabriel's captors took so as to intercept them at the nearest bend. Samuel and Nathan were quickly in toe, following clumsily after their father. The four remaining children watched after them between stifling coughs and brutal rasps as the familiar figures disappeared into the guise of the distant trees.

A small tug to her skirt pulled Caroline back from her reverie. She was quick to look down at the child whom possessed the hand which tried to catch her wavering attention. As she had suspected it was William, his pale eyes once more welt up with tears. She sent him an amiable pat to the shoulder, permitting him to croak out his heartbreaking query, "Are-are they going to come back?"

Caroline bit down on her lip, this being her instinctual reaction to stress or nervousness, as she buried the true array of possibilities under a false mask of certainty. "William," she started, bending down to meet the little boy's height, "You know father will make all attempts possible to come back, he's a strong man and Nathan and Sam make him even stronger."

His tiny chapping lips quivered as he chewed all that she had said, while still trying to contain his inner most fright. Soon the sorrowful expression which was upon his face was shared by everyone in presence as their youngest brother choked out, "But Gabriel and Thomas were strong too!"

Caroline stood frozen as she stared down upon the little boy. It had taken a child's honesty to unclothe an adult's fragility. The sudden rush of tears to her eyes could not be denied, so in desperate attempt to conceal her vulnerability Caroline scooped up the small boy in her arms and cradled him against her.

"Come-along," she pleaded between pathetic gasping sobs, "Susan-Margaret-Thom-"

A ball of air caught itself in her throat when realization drowned her in its bitter truths. _He was gone._

Her best friend and brother was gone. How could she not have prevented this?

Yet no matter how much she wished to have stopped this from happening Caroline knew that he would not have listened. This was _because_ of her. She had always pointed out these faults that she thought she had found in him and his reasoning. It had taken his death for her to realize that they were truly just her own weakness' of character becoming personified in another to deceive others and herself of her own insecurities and selfishness. She had left Thomas with this image of her as a person who had not the decency to give another the time of day.

It needn't take much of her imagination to wonder what his last thoughts of her were, for she knew what her impetuous assaults of the tongue should have warranted. The very final moments and thoughts of his spent on earth were more than likely exhausted on those of hate because of her pigheadedness. Thomas had had every right to despise her with every fiber of his being, for in the end it had fallen upon her ill fated choice to prolong her apology to him which had condemned her family to endure this living hell.

_His blood is upon my hands._

A sudden frailty of mind imposed itself upon her face, but before any more could be done to react to what had just been concurred Margaret and Susan came rushing into her mid section. The fabric of her bodice was then serving as a handkerchief for all of their watering eyes.

_This is my entire fault, _she confessed running a shaking hand over her youngest sister's long blond hair.

"Come," she murmured, persuading the two girls to an independent stance, "We must go into the fields as father had said."

The girls nodded, their faces stained by the red trails which their tears had left across their skin, as they consented to being lead by Caroline's guiding hand, while her other arm supported the weight of their young brother. They were all hesitant to leave Thomas susceptible to the fundamental effects of the enviroment, but saw no other choice. What else was there for him to lose?

The children had then begun to walk. The pace of Caroline's heart against William's had soon become all that stood to keep the boy calm as they maneuvered through blood soaked crops and mutilated bodies. The faint, infrequent gasp was all that further emerged from his lips.

No one else had dared make speech while they traversed through what seemed to be an endless coppice of tall, golden spires. Yet their dry tongues were not all that had added to the noiseless surroundings. It had seemed to them all that Mother Nature was an empathetic being that had taken heed to the family's sorrow. She was then mindful to silence her children of the forest, from the mockingbird to the deer to whatever other animal else there was to roam by, with a warning that quiet _must_ be held to let the Martin's mourn for their loss in what could only be described as a feigned sense of peace.

"Stop now," Caroline had unexpectedly commanded, breaking the absence of noise with her voice like a stone through a pane of glass. Her arm had in that time snapped out from her side to physically halt her sisters.

They all looked at Caroline with curious expressions as she began to survey their surroundings, lacking the haste that would have seemed necessary for such simple observations. Yet the young woman had then taken upon the task of protecting her siblings with a greater wariness. Their safety wholly lay in the fragile arms of her examination skills, so the procedure could not have been rushed for error gave room to failure, something which Caroline could not stomach to be shamed of again.

The stalks of corn, which glimmered from tall above their heads, left them hidden from the eyes of everybody save the preying hawk that circled in the exceedingly blue sky above. The dark overcast from the morn had moved east, permitting the sun's rays to caress the children's exposed flesh as the warmth it brought spread through their bodies. Though Caroline could not deny the sensation as pleasant in its first few moments, she knew its reassuring touches were only there to provide a false sense of comfort. Their own safety and concealment would fall dependent on the quietness of their prose and the stillness of their posture.

The younger ones had continued to eye Caroline for their permission to sit down the whole while through, yet she made it her purpose to ignore their impatience until she felt comfortable doing so, thus forcing them to temporarily allay their stares. So as it would be expected that when the moment came that her facial expression indicated to the others that she had deemed the place suitable for them to seek refuge in that their eyes had once more resumed with their vigorous procuring.

She was slightly taken a back, having never been treated with such a high degree of dignification before. It was as though that because there were no other dominant figures in their presence to uphold to that the children then found it necessary to look to her for absolution. This was something that she had never experienced prior to then.

Caroline then looked from either one of her sisters to the little brother that she held in her arms; all of their stares, except for William's, begged with her to relieve their weary legs. Feeling this increasing pressure she chastely stamped down upon the uneven ground where she would soon sit and lowered her body to the moist earth. This motion was then promptly mimicked by Margaret and Susan as they followed her descent.

Though the lengths in which she had gone to just so they could sit in amoungst the crops seemed much, Caroline managed to find the necessity in it. Without having done so she feared risking another family member's wellbeing. Also, the process had brought her attention to something she would have otherwise not noticed; every move that the children made were now of direct result of her own consent. The young lady then surmised that this place of power that she held would only remain until their father returned with their brothers.

As she had hoped no one had further spoken, but not for the reasons which their father's command had proscribed. It was because their throats had all become too dry and chafed from profuse crying to let another noise escape. So as would it would be assumed after settling themselves into their places that the quietude had inevitably resumed itself in the atmosphere. Shrouding all of the children in a prickly discomfort to every subtle noise made in their vast environment. Yet this noiselessness also served as the craft in which thoughts would invade one's mind, be the person willing or not.

Caroline had been sitting in quiet for minutes, despite feeling like it had been hours, with her chest aching as the thoughts of Thomas resurfaced in her mind. Had she been the one to provoke him to run? She shut her eyes and rested her cheek atop Will's head. _Have I done this all? _

Caroline's eyes fluttered open again. To dwell on the harm she had caused would be a waste of the energy which she should exert on the safeguard of her other siblings. She then extended her arm around her sisters. These people around her were of most importance.

With no other precautionary search of the area to distract her from her own musings she took the time to stare mindlessly into her surrounding so as to delude herself of the thoughts which plagued her. It had not the effect that she had wished for it seemed as thought that each time she glanced upon a new area it took but mere moments until the picture became nothing more than an unintelligible blur of gold and green. It was a great irritant this lack of focus, but the sleepless girl had not the stamina left in her to divulge her frustration.

Caroline sighed and repeated to reclose and open her eyes. This time she was surprised that upon first sight where corn should have been seen there was instead a strange image materializing in her vision. It had taken a few seconds for her to fully cognate that what she was seeing in the backs of her eyes was not around her, but of a place she had once been accustomed to.

The only comparison that she could draw from the bizarre experience was that it was like looking through dark water as it ebbed back and forth from the shore, distorting the image which it tried to reflect with each passing current. Yet Caroline knew, from prior occurrence, that all bodies of water must still. So when it did she was taken aback by the that vivid colours and contrasting feelings which it had revealed to her through those fleeting moments as her mind sunk deeper and deeper into the drink.

"_You know I'll change this!" _someone shouted as though with a mouthful of pebbles. Yet even with this warped voice she could not ignore the person's familiar intonation and the contented feelings that they churned in her stomach, despite the poorly hidden venom in their words.

Caroline pondered upon what they had spoken with an earnest curiousity, while the sentence echoed from depths of her retention. How could it be that this was so familiar?

Suddenly recognition and shame both rushed to her cheeks. _How could I be so daft and ignorant not to realize who it was sooner? _

A smile stretched itself from either side of her face, straining the very tendons while doing so. _"Thomas!"_ she tried to shout, with happiness still bubbling from within her stomach.

"Thomas I must see you!" she beseeched, but still he made no response. All she could see was the blank wall in front of her for she seemed unable to seek him out with her eyes. "Thomas?"

The thought that he was ignoring her plight was the first to pose itself, but just as quickly as it had appeared did she mark it as false. It was only until she attempted to call to him once more that she realized that it was not by choice that he did not answer her. It was that the words that she so desperately tried to spew were not being permitted, by some mysterious higher power, to pass from her lips.

_Can he really not hear me?_ she wondered trying to grasp his attention once more but to no avail.

Suddenly Thomas' voice burst through the silence like a round from a gun._ "I'll be the man to kill the worst of the British. The very worse!"_

Caroline froze in mid thought. She knew full well where she had heard that phrase before. Her expression of contentedness then sunk into a frown. This was not some form of divine redemption, as she had wished so dearly it was, this was that past replaying itself in a memory.

She had a new perspective on his words and the situation which was laid before her. The desire within herself to reconcile with him was burning brighter than ever before. She wanted to see him smile once more and was willing to do or say anything to obtain this response. But her willingness to apologize had come too late. She could not now for the opportunity was gone.

All in which she was observing had come and past. She did not have the ability within herself to change the course of events to come for they had regrettably already taken place. All she could do was relive the fateful moments with regret tearing at her insides as consciousness to her cruelty took full form.

"_I'll be the man to kill 'The Butcher,'" _declared the infuriated young man as her tried to provoke some emotional response in her.

Caroline felt as the muscles in her stomach had tightened in affliction to the statement, indicating to her the exact beginning of the event which she gravely feared to reoccur.

_Don't do this, _she begged herself_, You have no understanding of what you're about to say. _

With weak arms she tried to fight for reparation against the very hands of time. Her muscles shook and trembled as she used all her might to hold the great clock above her head, but the force which it obtained was too much as it fell upon her with the weight of a thousand stones.

Caroline's body had turned a half rotation to face her brother. The vision of him with a healthy pink tint to his skin and with a vibrant glint in his eyes elated her spirits. Despite Caroline's full consciousness to the dark intent behind his stare she relished in it. Any interaction with Thomas good or bad was enough to make her grin. But once more this state of bliss could not last as she felt as her chest had expanded as she mustered up the air to retort to his exclamation.

_No, don't speak, don't speak!_

She could have protested until her very lungs gave out but she could not prevent the words from coming from her mouth.

"_Or will you just be one the many naïve boys he kills?"_

The relevance of what she had spoken cut at Caroline's insides. Had she foretold her brother's death or had she condemned him to it? The young woman's body began to throb with pain as she watched his face contort at the shear acidity of what she had said.

The memory then no longer progressed, trapping her in that painful moment which her words had first taken effect upon Thomas. The fact that time took pleasure in her struggling was a harsh truth to digest, but she found its choice of forcing her to endure this event to be a suiting penalty for all that she had done. Yet as the clock ticked away she realized that the picture of her brother's glowing warm countenance, marred by that ghastly expression, was fading; submerging itself deeper into the water while she began to float upwards.

"_I'll be the man to kill 'The Butcher'"_

The sentence continued to repeat itself, tangling itself with her tongue as she got closer and closer to the surface before breaking through it and revealing the harsh reality which the water had tried to conceal.

"I'll be the man to kill 'The Butcher'"

"What?" Margaret inquired with a shear and undisguisable confusion expressing itself upon her face as she glanced up at her older sister. Margaret had never been able to relate to Caroline as their brother Thomas had. To the young girl her sister was but a mere accessory in her life that had never served much more of a function than a caregiver. Yet in that moment what had once been an empty place for which Caroline had never filled as a family member had then begun to flood with awareness to her sister's own perplexing nature.

Caroline was back in her present thought, but was not to relieve her sister Margaret of the confusion with mangled her soft face. The thing that she had been searching for in order to be redeemed presented itself to Caroline as the junctures of her mind begun to once more work in synchronization. The gears clicked one after another as her intentions manifested themselves.

The clean, fluent texture of the rifle from beneath her hand enticed her to hold it closer. The bullets that rattled from within her pocket sung to her to be unsheathed from their fabric container. While the promise that she had made to her family and most importantly her brother Thomas shouted at her to act.

_I stand for no one and nothing but my family and if to do so means I must be both selfish and conniving, then do so I will!_

"Caroline?" Margaret queried again, with a growing trepidation as a wild, vacant look inhibited her sister's eyes.

Caroline rushed back to full functioning; her eyes were wide and foreign to her already frightened siblings. There was an uneasy calm that lasted no more than several seconds before it came tumbling down with a sudden injunction.

"You all must stay here."

Margaret's mouth flew open as she tried to reckon with the words being thrown at her. "But-Father? He told us we must stay?"

With a maniacal expression upon her face she coolly replied to her sister's question, while trying to pass off little William into Margaret's arms, "And all of you shall."

The little boy shook his head as he desperately clutched for Caroline. "Willy, you must let go," she pleaded, his eyes once more watering, before his little fingers had finally lost grip on her bodice. He was then reluctantly placed into the grasp of his other sister.

"But?" Margaret began as she tried to pacify the crying child in her arms.

"But nothing," Caroline asserted over her, as she softly brushed the hair upon William's forehead to the side and gently kissed the top of his head, "Lest anyone finds you here, sympathize with their cause. Bend the truth if you must."

Margaret's usual logical and smooth speech was at that moment blemished with cracks and waning words as she tried to ratify what was occurring. "But-What are you doing? You can't leave! What if father comes back before you?"

Caroline rose to her feet, standing tall above her siblings as she tried to quell the panic in her sister's voice, "It doesn't matter what I am doing, all you must do is listen to what I have spoken and all shall be fine."

She would be leaving her siblings for only a brief while in what she justified as the safest part of their property, she had seen to this when she had made her initial inspection of the area. And though she had made it her purpose to protect them all she knew that when the opportunity to avenge her brother posed itself to her that would not be able to deny it. She would then leave them all in Margaret's safe and able hands. Caroline seldom did so based off observation on prior occasions when the girl had shown to her that she was just as capable of a caretaker as she had ever been, if not greater. Caroline knew that when she left her twelve year old sister would know just how to serve for the family's protection.

The expression on the children's faces expressed the opposite of Caroline's confidence, but the children knew nothing could be done to persuade their oldest sister otherwise. So they all unwillingly nodded in compliance.

"Now stay here," Caroline commanded before turning briskly on her feet and stumbling into a full fledged run.

"But Caroline?" Margaret shouted after her, still utterly confounded by this sudden change in her usually quiet and gauging nature. Yet her yelling was but an exhaustion of air for her older sister was no longer in sight as she ran through the tall crops in what could only be assumed to be the direction of the wilderness surrounding their home.

Thomas' words had never had more prevalence to Caroline than then as her resolute feet padded their way across the soft soil of their property. What he had spoken, though justly inane at the time, was all that was left to assure Caroline that her present choice of actions was not to lead her to fall victim to a bullet as her brother had. From that time on she would no longer be able to concede Thomas' actions as stupidly impulsive for those that she was about to commit had just all little thought behind them. As Volumnia had so effectively said to Coriolanus, _"Action is eloquence."_

If Caroline did not pursue her brother's killer she risked loosing all grasps of her sanity having not taken the chance. If she could not atone the mistakes in her past, she could meld the course of her own future, as well as that of many others. A world without another tyrant would serve more than just her purpose, but may actually spare another man's life.

The looming shadows of the towering trees had finally embraced her in their icy arms as darkness enveloped her. She stayed within four yards of the road which the Dragoon's had left upon, thus making her close enough to see out from within, but still too far be seen within from out. She was nearly undetectable.

Caroline's feet continued to move swiftly across her land, far quicker than she had ever thought possible for herself. It was genuinely alarming the rate in which she was able to run when with such a conviction fueling her. One could almost expect her to have taken wing and flown above the trees if it had not been for the troublesome frills of her under petticoat, which had caught themselves upon every protruding surface between her ankles and calves.

She let out a quick and exasperated sigh as she detached herself from each snag she met as she ran towards the resounding sound of hooves and men.

The wind flew past her cheeks, sending her hair flying behind her like the sail of the ship. Yet despite her greatest agility she could not avoid the limbs of the trees which scrutinized her intentions and tried to deter her from her path.

A root that had been buried low into the ground had caught her in its grasp, sending her falling onto the mossy earth as her ankles became entangled in amoungst her petticoat. Her heart pattered quickly when she realized her susceptibility in the area which she had fallen. She was in near plain view with few and between trees shielding another's sight.

With every passing second that she fumbled clumsily with the undergarment, the sound of the men grew fainter and fainter. "Damn it," she cursed at long last as the thick fabric continued to fight back. The new companions, being the root and her petticoat, had attached themselves in a near unbreakable knot. It had been a union that she was unable to object to any longer.

In one swift movement Caroline tore the slip from above her knee, leaving it attached to the root. This left her with nothing more than her torn and ripped dress to cover her legs from curious eyes. She then wasted no more time to get back to her feet, despite the bruises and scrapes that she had received upon falling, to continue pursuing the Dragoons with a new found agility.

It very well could have been a fruitless mission, one that had the potential of ending her in a worse of condition than before, but the satisfaction of killing the Colonel was too delectable of flavour upon her palate to ignore. She had become the hunter, stalking down her victim with a brute determination and a fleeting taste of them on her tongue. At all stakes required she would obtain that which she wanted most; revenge.

It had not taken her very long to catch up with her prey, their voices now overshadowing the sound of their horses hooves against the dirt, but despite this proximity she knew she could not just make a blind shot. Her kill had to be calculated, well positioned. It had to be perfect. It had to be a _kill shot_.

Caroline was prompt to take the field and dash fifty yards ahead despite the burning in her throat as she pushed her lungs to the very extremes of their limitations. She neared another thinning in the brush which gave her a greater opportunity to be accurate. Her pale brown day dress blended her with her surroundings like a cobra in the sand, while the soldiers' brilliant red coats served as eye sores in the murky green environment. They were all easy targets, but only one of them was to be her kill.

She quickly propped her rifle upon a fallen tree and took aim at the exact spot in which the leader of the fleet of cavalry would emerge. It was like she hunting with her brothers again, waiting for the helpless pheasant to make one wrong step that would enable her to take its life. _Now, _she thought as she pulled back upon the trigger as the man rode into her sights,_ you will have a taste of that which you inflict._

**Oh, we'll just have to see what happens next. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it_. _I'd love to hear what you thought. **


End file.
